


Grayson's Moving Castle

by SharaRaizel



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, M/M, just an excuse to mess with timmy, magical sex change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaRaizel/pseuds/SharaRaizel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summery: Timothy Drake, a quiet boy working in his family’s antique shop, finds his life thrown into turmoil when he is literally swept off his feet by a handsome but mysterious wizard named Grayson. The vain and vengeful Witch of the Waste, jealous of their friendship, puts a spell on Tim that changes him into an old man. In a life-changing adventure, Tim climbs aboard Grayson’s magnificent moving castle and enters a magical world on a quest to break the spell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing Timothy Jackson Drake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a DC (mostly Batman) version of Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle:
> 
> Featuring Tim Drake in the role of Sophie, Dick Grayson as Howl, Jason Todd as Calcifer, Damian Wayne as Markl, and a surprise cast featuring other Batfam members and associates.
> 
> Ok, so this is my very first Batman/Batfam fan fic ever so a lot of these characters are probably really OC. I’m relatively new to the comics, but I’ve seen a lot of the DC animated movies and series. Most of this fic is based off of the Movie version of Howl’s Moving Castle directed by Hayao Miazaki, but quite a fair bit is also based off of parts of the book by Diana Wynne Jones. I hope I did a halfway decent job.
> 
> Also, I know that the tags say this is a Dick&Tim story (and it looks like it's going to end up with them together in a Dick/Tim pairing way), but for those of you who aren't into that sort of thing, don't worry. That's not going to happen for a long while yet. In fact, for the purposes of THIS fic, it's all going to be G and can probably be ignoring for the most part and played off as brother-bonding (because it's Dick, right?). This is mainly T because of language.

In the land of Dicomacs, where scientific and mechanical innovations such as the steam engine and skyplanes exist in a victorian-esque time alongside magic and legends, it is considered by many in the working class to be quite the misfortune if you are born either the eldest or the only child in a family. Being the eldest or only child meant that you were the one expected to carry on the family business.

Timothy Jackson Drake was one such child. He was the only son of Janet and Jack Drake, a couple of renowned explorers and archaeologists, who also owned a successful antique shop in Gotham that had been handed down from father to son for many generations. As the Drake family’s only child and heir, Tim was destined to inherit it someday. It could be argued, however, that he had already become the owner of the shop by the time he’d turned 10. His parents were known for being away for months at a time, traveling abroad unearthing and collecting items to bring back home and sell in their shop. Because of this, Tim was rather lonely during the early years of his life until he started school and befriended two girls, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. 

Cassandra Cain was a couple of years older than Tim and Stephanie, but she was in their year group at school due to her lack of English language skills. The older girl was from an unknown eastern country and had been left one night at a girls’ home in Gotham at a young age without knowing any English. Because most of the girls at the home laughed at the funny way she spoke, Cassandra didn’t talk much. She left all of that to Stephanie, who was a bright and outgoing sort of girl who had no qualms about filling silence with idle chatter. 

Stephanie Brown was the daughter of a father who’d left home when she was really small and had never come back, and a poor mother who’d found work and lodging at the girl’s home that Cassandra had been left in. Stephanie had found it sad that Cassandra didn’t seem to have any friends at the home and had resolved to befriend her and teach her how to improve her English. She did much the same with Tim when the girls found him being teased by some bigger boys at their neighborhood market. They may have gone to different schools because they lived in different parts of Uptown Gotham, but they didn’t let that stop them. After a time, Tim had helped Cassandra improve her English by leaps and bounds and with help from his parents, managed to help get the girls moved to his school on a scholarship program.

The only miscalculation on Stephanie’s part when it came to her friends, was assuming that Tim had been a rather boyish looking girl and not a girlish looking boy, and had spent the greater part of the first month of their acquaintance thinking that Tim was a girl. Cassandra had been amused greatly when Tim found out and Stephanie realized their new friend was actually a boy. Not that it impacted or changed their friendship at all. If anything, it only strengthen it, becoming this obscure secret and joke between the three.

Unfortunately for Tim, being a boy did not deter his two friends in the slightest from dressing him up like a girl so that he could come over and visit them at the girl’s home were no boys were allowed. He could only curse his mother’s genetics for giving him such delicate features that only seemed to become more accentuated when he matured into a pretty little man instead of a big handsome one. The three of them grew up together as thick as thieves and for a long time, you would rarely find one without the other two nearby.

Unfortunately, like what happens to all children, they grew up, finished their schooling, and their lives started to point them in different directions. Just a few years before they’d ended their studies, everyone in Gotham had begun talking about the Witch of the Waste. It was rumored that she’d threatened the life of the King’s son and that His Majesty had commanded his personal magician, Wizard Wayne, and one of his apprentices, to deal with the witch. According to rumor, it seemed that Wizard Wayne had not only failed to deal with the Witch, but had gotten himself killed and his apprentice crippled.

Not long after that, a tall dark castle had suddenly appeared on the hills above Gotham, blowing clouds of black smoke from its four tall turrets. Everybody was sure that the Witch had moved out of the Waste again and was going to terrorize the country like she had several decades ago. What made it all even scarier was that the castle did not stay in the same place. Sometimes the castle was a tall grey smudge on the moors to the northwest, sometimes it appeared downhill and sat just beyond the farthest farm to the north. It could be seen moving at times too, with smoke pouring out from the turrets in dirty gray gusts.  

People got very scared at this phenomenon. Even Tim’s parents were hesitant to leave Gotham to go on one of their trips. Nobody went out alone, especially at night. It became a regular occurrence for Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra to alternate between spending the night together at the Drakes’ home above the antique shop and in their small shared room at the girl’s home. They rarely separated.

But the castle stayed roving about the hills for the most part, and it was soon learned that it did not belong to the Witch, but to Wizard Grayson instead, who had started to garner his own fearsome reputation. Though he did not seem to want to leave the hills, Grayson was known to amuse himself by picking up young girls and eating their hearts. He was a cold-blooded and heartless wizard and no young girl was safe from him if he caught her on her own. Because Tim’s parents had grown fond of Stephanie and Cassandra over the years they had often warned the girls (and Tim by association) to never go out alone.

They began to have other matters on their minds before long, however, when they reached the end of their schooling and Cassandra turned 18, the legal adult age. She was too old to be allowed to stay at the girl’s home. Fortunately for Cassandra, Tim’s mother had found the young woman an apprenticeship with a long standing client of their shop from Metropolis. Said client was a witch, but was considered one of the good ones and had a large clientele spanning all throughout the Royal City. Rumor had it that the woman was being considered for the position of court magician. Stephanie and Tim had been sad to say farewell to their friend, but the letters that they received weekly put them at ease. 

Stephanie herself was the next to go. She’d wanted to move further into the heart of Gotham to seek out her own apprenticeship and for the following year, she’d regaled Tim with tales of the various positions she tried (and often failed) to take up.

That left Tim alone most of the time in his little home above his parents’ antique shop on the outer parts of Uptown Gotham. After his friends had left, he took on more responsibilities at the shop. He became a bit of a loner and often isolated himself in the back room and that’s where our story truly begins…

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

It was the first of May and Tim was polishing an old copper cooking pot. It was the last of many items that his parents had brought back home from their last trip to be sold in their little shop in Gotham. Undoubtedly they’d be home again soon with another trove of items that would need cleaning and restoring. Almost absently, Tim reached out with one hand to settle a vase that was in danger of toppling over when the train that ran by on the tracks behind the shop came rumbling by. Black smoke from the steam engine billowed out over the sealed window and blocked out the afternoon sunlight streaming in. After the train had passed, Tim removed his hand from the vase and put in one last effort to scrub the dirt that persistently clung to the inside of the pot. Once he was finished he rinsed the pot and buffed it until the copper shone. Satisfied, Tim admired his work in the light coming back in through the window.

Just as he put the pot down with the rest of the antiques he’d cleaned that morning, there was a knock at the backroom door. Looking up, Tim saw one of the shop assistants, Tanya Fox.

“Timothy, I’ve closed up the shop. You’ve done enough work,” she said. “You should come out with us this time.”

“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Fox,” Tim smiled back politely. “I just need to clean up and then I’ll leave. You and the girls go on ahead and enjoy the festivities.”

“Alright,” Tanya said, looking hesitant. “If you’re sure. Let's go girls,” she called, addressing the other two that helped run the shop, her daughters Tamara and Tiffany.

“I’m ready,” Tam said.

“Look! It’s Grayson’s Castle!” Tiffany suddenly gasped.

“What? Where?!” Tam cried, racing back across the room past where Tim could see her from the back room’s doorway.

“Oh my. How close is it?” Tanya asked.

“I wonder if Grayson is in town,” Tiffany said, sounding worried.

Tim looked out the window in the back room at the hills that could be seen outside of town leading up into the mountains. The clouds were hanging low today, but he could just make out a moving grey shape against them, disappearing into the white before some of the King’s skyplanes flew by the spot.

“He’s gone,” Tam sighed.

“No, he’s just hiding from those soldiers,” Tiffany said.

“Say, did you hear about that girl, Kori, from Star City?” Tam asked. “They say Grayson tore her heart out.”

“How scary!” Tiffany gasped. “Now I’m too scared to go out.”

Tanya could be heard sighing as she tried to herd her girls out the door.

“Don’t worry,” Tam said to her sister. Tim could practically hear her smirk as they headed towards the front door. “He only preys on  _ pretty _ girls. Especially redheads. It’s a good thing you are neither.”

Tiffany let out an indignant squawk.

“Alright, alright, let's go,” Tanya huffed. “Have a good evening, Timothy!”

“And you as well,” Tim called out. “Take care and say hello to Lucius and Luke for me!”

“Will do!”

After the three Fox women were gone Tim got off his work stool and stretched, feeling something in his back pop before he straightened and put away his tools and cleaning supplies. After that was done, Tim locked up the shop and exited his parents’ store, looking up as more skyplanes flew overhead with fluttering banners and flags waving behind them. The first of May, May Day, had always been a cause for celebration, but this year it had been declared a special holiday in Gotham and most shops were closing early to see the King’s soldiers parade through the city center before they were shipped off to fight in the brewing war between their kingdom of Dicomacs and the Eastern Empire ruled by Emperor Ra’s al Ghul. Nothing serious had happened yet beyond a few minor skirmishes, but things had to have become really tense between the two kingdoms if the king was sending out a larger deployment of troops to support those he already had out east.

Tim hurried over the cobbled streets to catch the trolley that would take him into the heart of Gotham City. The inside of the vehicle was crowded and filled to capacity so when he stepped up onto the boarding step he thanked his lucky stars that he was still short and slim enough to squeeze into the doorway on the top step before the trolley departed. As the trolley made its way through busy streets Tim saw cleared under passes and lower roads where tanks rolled through under bridges. Main streets had people up on the sidewalks or in specially constructed stands while soldiers marched in formation or rode their decorated horses past the cheering crowds under confetti thrown by the people watching from the upper stories of the surrounding buildings.

After getting off the trolley, Tim moved away from the main crowds watching the soldiers. He instead ducked down parallel running side streets and alleys to make his way through the city faster since the main streets were clogged with traffic, cheering crowds, and parading soldiers. Once Tim was in the right part of the city, he pulled out his most recent letter from Stephanie. She’d moved into the central most part of Gotham to be closer to the newest job and apprenticeship she’d gotten. She’d sent Tim her new address as soon as she’d settled. He was unfamiliar with this area of Gotham, however, and as he wandered further into a residential area, he feared he was getting lost. He was so involved with his search, hoping to find the right address or at least a familiar sounding street to help orientate himself, that he hadn’t noticed two soldiers approaching him until one spoke.

“Hey there. You look lost, little boy.”

Tim tensed, staring up at them in a startled manner. It didn’t help that they were both a good foot taller than he was, meaning he had to crane his head up to look them in the face. The first soldier was clean shaven with a sort of boyish and charming look to him. His companion was a little taller than he was and had a bushy mustache and more roguish look. 

“No, I’m fine,” Tim stammered, taking a step back.

“The kid looks thirsty,” Clean Face said, leaning into Tim’s personal space as Mustache moved closer, looking intrigued. “Would you care to join us for a drink? My treat.”

“No thank you,” Tim managed to say in a firmer tone. “I’m busy. My friend is expecting me.”

“He’s certainly a cute little boy,” Mustache said. “Look at those baby blues.”

Tim averted his eyes, flushing a bit. He wished for the millionth time that he’d inherited his father’s more masculine looks instead of his mother’s delicate features. Stephanie still teased him to this day about looking like one of the porcelain dolls his mother liked to display in the shop.

“How old are you?” Clean Face asked with a glint in his eyes that Tim didn’t like. “Do you live around here?”

“Please let me pass,” Tim snapped softly, taking a step back, bracing himself in case he needed to fight and flee. Damn soldiers. Cocky bastards thought they could do whatever they pleased because they were going off to war the next day.

“Aww,” Clean Face said to Mustache. “See? You scare all the cuties. It’s your mustache.”

Tim scowled. He may have been small, but he was eighteen and he could handle himself. If those creeps took one more step he was going to show them just how “cute” he was.

“So?” Mustache smirked. “He’s even cuter when he’s mad.”

“There you are!” someone cried happily from behind Tim. Tim nearly jumped out of his skin when an arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You got lost didn’t you?”

Tim glanced up, surprised to see a handsome young man that looked like he was in his mid-twenties. He had flowing golden locks of hair and bright blue-grey eyes that reminded Tim of the Gotham sky on it’s clear days.

“Who are you? We’re busy here,” Clean Face snarled at the newcomer.

“He’s my friend,” the beautiful man behind Tim said pleasantly. “And it looked to me as if you two were just leaving.

Tim wasn’t completely sure what had happened next but in his peripheral vision he saw one of the mysterious man’s fingers flick up and the soldiers snapped to attention. With a wave of his hand the two soldiers marched off with surprised shouts. Tim stared after them in amazed bewilderment. He jumped slightly when the arm around his shoulders pulled him closer into a sideways hug.

“So!” beamed the man he was mentally referring to as Goldilocks. “Now that those rude men have left, where can I take you? I’ll be your escort this evening.”

Tim felt himself blush. He probably should be scared of this guy - who was obviously a magician of some sort - but he felt no fear when he looked into that smiling face. He seemed earnest and kind, but all the same...

“Ah… no, that’s… Not necessary,” Tim stammered. “I’m... only going to the Birds of Prey...”

Goldilocks ignored his protest, however.

“Excellent! Oh, and don’t be alarmed, but I’m being followed. Just act natural.”

Tim stared but any further protests that he might have made were cut off as Goldilocks nudged him forward, arm still wrapped companionably around his shoulders.

They continued down the side street they were on for a few blocks before anything happened. Tim couldn’t say how he knew that they had company because he hadn’t heard anything. But he could almost sense other presences homing in on them with every step and he could swear that he saw dark shapes flitting about out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” his so-called “escort” said, not sounding sorry at all. “It looks like I got you involved.”

No sooner had he said that, black figures seemed to seep out of the shadows ahead of them.

“This way,” Goldilocks said calmly, sharply turning them down an adjacent alley. Tim’s heart was thudding in his chest as they hurried down the alleys. He began to hope that they would escape when he saw a bright light coming from an opening onto a main street where a crowd of people were standing watching the soldiers parade through Gotham. But that hope was just as quickly dashed when more shadow men appeared in front of them. They were trapped!

“Hold on!” Goldilocks cried, his arm slipping down from around Tim’s shoulders to his waist. With a little jump, Tim felt himself being yanked up through the air, high above the shadow men and over the rooftops where their ascent slowed to a stop and they hovered in the air. “Great! Now straighten your legs and keep walking.”

Tim did as he was told, feeling as if his heart was in his mouth, as the arm around his waist slid up along the length of his arm to grip his hand. The man did the same on Tim’s other side. Tim’s eyes were wide open in shock and amazement and his brain struggled to reconcile with the fact they they were in the air.  _ Walking! _ With the way the man was holding his hands, Tim felt like a child learning how to walk.

“See?” Goldilocks beamed at him as they strode through the air. “Easy! You’re a natural.”

Tim flushed at the praise, unable to keep himself from smiling. Goldilocks chuckled and squeezed Tim’s hands encouragingly.

Down below, the central hub of Gotham City was spread out before them. Tim could now see the cafe that Stephanie had recently started working at from their vantage point as well as the crowded streets that were now filled with people dancing and sitting at tables eating food from the local vendors. There were no cries of surprise or panic as they “walked” through the open sky, descending towards a balcony above the Birds of Prey cafe. Goldilocks stepped down on the balcony railing and eased Tim down onto the deck, hands gentle and guiding, not letting go until Tim was steady on his feet.

“I’ll make sure to draw them off,” the man said in reference to the shadow men, smiling warmly at Tim. “Wait a bit until the coast is clear before heading out.”

“Al… alright,” Tim stammered, face flush with exhilaration. They’d just walked…  _ in the sky! _

“That’s my Baby Bird,” the man beamed once more before jumping backwards off the railing, his eyes never leaving Tim’s until they fell out of sight beyond the balcony rail.

Alarmed, Tim gasped and hurried forward, but when he looked down he could not see the strange man anywhere in the crowd below him.

As he scanned the crowd below for the man, the sliding door behind him slammed open, making him jump. There was a girl dressed in the purple dress uniform that marked her as one of the Birds of Prey cafe workers.

“Sir! Are you alright?”

“Ah… yes,” Tim said, shaking himself. “I’m… ah, here to see Stephanie Brown. Is she here?”

The girl stared at him with an unreadable expression for a moment before nodding. She waved him inside into the upstairs hallway and told him to wait there while she got Stephanie. Tim thanked her. As soon as she was gone, Tim’s mind began to replay the last ten minutes in his head and tried to comprehend that he’d just skywalked to the cafe with a blond stranger. Had that really happened?

A couple minutes later he could hear the loud clack of heeled shoes clicking hurriedly up the stairs. Stephenie came barreling into view a second later, skirts whirling as she cleared the landing and raced to his side.

“Timmy!”

“Hey Steph,” Tim said smiling weakly at her, still dazed from his encounter with the blond man.

“What’s going on? Someone told me you just floated down onto our balcony!”

“That really did happen,” he muttered. “It wasn’t some kind of dream or hallucination.”

Stephanie grabbed him by his shoulders and stared up into his face with concern. He was in shock, Tim realized numbly.

“Stephanie? Is everything alright?”

Both turned to see a tall blond woman standing in a doorway at the end of the hall.

“Miss Lance!” Stephanie exclaimed, smiling before glancing at Tim with obvious concern. “...I’m not sure.”

The woman chuckled. “It’s Dinah, Stephanie. Why don’t you two use the office?”

“Thanks, but shouldn’t I get back to work?” Stephanie asked, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Nonsense,” Dinah said with a tone of finality. “Your friend looks a bit rattled. I can find someone to cover your tables while you two talk.”

“But-!” 

Dinah only gave her a stern look and glanced pointedly at Tim before descending the stairs, leaving the door to her office open.

A few minutes later Tim was finished recounting his tale to Stephanie inside Miss Lance’s office. Apparently the woman was the owner of the cafe and the apartments above it.

“Wow!” Stephanie gaped. “He had to’ve been a wizard.”

“...He must have been…” Tim mused. “But he was so kind. Nothing like what you normally hear about most magic users. He rescued me.”

Well… kind of. Tim could have taken care of himself quite fine and even though the man had helped him out with those soldiers, he  _ had _ gotten Tim mixed up in that mess with the shadow men.

“Of course he was being nice!” Stephanie cried. “He was trying to steal your heart. You’re lucky the guy seemed to have other problems to deal with. If he had been Grayson he would have stolen your heart and eaten it!”

“No he wouldn’t have,” Tim snorted. “Grayson only does that to beautiful  _ women _ .”

“That is beside the point Timmy!” Stephanie scowled. “You know you’re pretty enough to be mistaken for a girl. You need to be more careful. These are dangerous times, what with the war starting up with the al Ghuls. They say that even the Witch of the Waste is back on the prowl. If Cass were here she’d agree with me.”

Tim only hummed in acknowledgement before standing up.

“I’d better be getting home now. It was good to see you again, Steph. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well here. It’s about time you found a stable job. Miss Lance seems like a good boss and mentor.”

“She’s great,” Steph said with a grin. “She’s also a fair landlady and is teaching me the ropes of running the bakery.”

“Good to know,” Tim chuckled as he gave her a hug.

“You could always come work here,” she told him. “You’d make a cute waiter. Hell, you’d make a cute  _ waitress _ . The girls and I would love dressing you up. It’d be like old times.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re the reason my entire childhood was one big traumatic experience and my parents think I’m queer.”

“Aren’t you though?” Stephanie snickered before looking at him with a big pout. “Joking aside, seriously think about it, Timmy. You’d be away from your parents and not stuck in that dusty antiques shop anymore.”

“I’m hardly stuck with them,” Tim huffed. “Mother and Father are gone so frequently it’s like I already own the place. And I’m their only son. Who else is going to run the shop while they’re off traipsing around the world? Besides, Mrs Fox and her daughters help run the shop front and that allows me to work more in the back on the pieces that need restoring and cleaning up before they’re put up for sale.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Steph scowled. “Tim, you’ve been one of my best friends since we were in Primary School. Cass and I  _ know _ you don’t like working there. Yeah, some of the antiques are neat, but do you seriously want to be doing that for the rest of your life? What happened to the boy that loved to sketch and paint and take amazing photographs?”

“He stopped wearing dresses and grew up,” Tim said with a wry smile. “And I don’t mind the work so much now with the Fox ladies’ help. And anyway, I’d better be heading back now or I’ll miss the trolley and won’t get home before dark.”

Stephanie stared at him worriedly before sighing and grabbing him up in one last hug goodbye.

“It’s your life, Tim. Just be sure that it’s what you want to be doing. Do something for yourself for once and take care. Screw what your parents think. If need be, I can write to Cass and we’ll steal you away and go on adventures of our own while your parents mind the shop for once in their lives.”

“Bye Steph,” Tim huffed as he disentangled himself from her embrace and hurried away.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the way home Tim made sure that he stuck to the main streets. Even though it took him longer because of the crowds he’d managed to get back home to the shop just as the sun was setting beyond the mountains. He locked the door behind him before lighting a lamp behind the counter at the back of the shop, but before he could round the counter and hang up his coat he heard the door’s bell chime. Bewildered, Tim turned around to face a lovely woman with tanned skin and silky dark hair that was artfully piled on top of her head. She wore all black. Her dress clung to her trim figure beneath her fur coat like a second skin with a slit up the side that was cut almost inappropriately high up her thigh. She was a very classy looking woman.

“I apologize, Ma’am,” Tim said in his most polite manner, “but the shop is closed. I could have sworn I’d locked that door.”

The woman stared at him with an almost bored expression before looking around.

“What a tacky shop. I’ve never seen such worn and rusted trinkets.”

Tim nearly bristled. His parents and their shop were known for their high end antiquities. It was a source of pride that his family relished. Even his Majesty, King Clark, had come to Gotham once to purchase a fabrashe egg that his parents had brought back from one of their excursions in the east. Such items were hard to come by these days since the war with Ra's al Gul and his Kingdom had begun, halting all travel and trade in the surrounding eastern countries.

“And yet,” the woman continued, eyeing him up and down, “you are by far the oldest looking thing here.”

Tim flushed, his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his worn grey trousers. He tended to dress more traditional and proper than most youths his age. He wore a dark red shirt that had been well pressed that morning and was buttoned all the way up to his collar beneath a grey waistcoat with brass buttons that matched his trousers. He also wore a black bowtie and faded brown loafers. His charcoal grey overcoat was still draped over his arm. None of them were anything close to the modern apparel most people wore these days. He didn’t wear bright silk or satin dress shirts, or coats with tails, and his shoes were never the spiffy heeled and pointy toed atrocities that were currently in fashion for men’s formal wear.

So yes, Tim’s preferred clothing choices were certainly considered “old fashioned,” but there was no need for this woman to be so dismissive of him because of it.

“I’m afraid I must ask you to leave now, Miss,” Tim said stiffly, striding past her towards the door and held it open for her. “The door is over here. We’re closed.”

“Well aren’t you a brave one? Standing up to the Witch of the Waste,” the woman smirked.

Tim froze, eyes flying wide open upon hearing that name. He startled back when he saw two shadowy figures - more solid looking up close in the low light of the lamp - slip into the doorway, boxing Tim in between them and the witch. Tim’s gaze darted back and forth between the witch and the shadow men before settling on the witch when she seemed to float into the air and fly at him at an alarming rate. He flinched back from her when she came upon him, but she only phased through him as if she were only a shadow like her minions.

Trembling, Tim turned to face her as she walked out the door.

“The best part about that spell is that you can’t tell anyone about it,” she informed him, glancing over her shoulder with a satisfied smirk. “My regards to Richard.”

Tim stared after her in confusion as the Witch turned on her heel and the door clicked shut behind her.

Tim could only shake where he stood for a few minutes. Once his wits started to return to him, he glanced around the shop for any sign of the witch’s shadow men. Finding none, he bent over to pick up his coat that he’d dropped in his fright. He paused halfway through the motion, once he caught sight of his hands. He stared in bewilderment and a growing sense of horror when he saw them. They were wrinkled with age with large veins and liver spots and knuckles large like knobs. His body suddenly began to ache when he straightened up. His hand then flew to his face and traced over soft leathery wrinkles and slightly loose skin. In a panic he hurried as fast as his suddenly achingly stiff legs and creaking joints would allow to an antique mirror hanging on the wall.

Instead of his face staring back at him, he saw a scared looking old man with deep lines etched into his face and a head of thinning white hair.

“Is that really me?” he breathed, reaching a hand out to touch the mirror. Every move he made the old man copied it.

Trying to reign in his building panic Tim turned away from the mirror and hobbled around the counter to leave the shop and head into the house upstairs. Climbing those stairs was an unbelievable trial. His body was aching even more than usual and he was out of breath by the time he reached the top. He made his way to his bedroom and began pacing after lighting his bedside lamp.

“You’re going to be fine, Tim,” he muttered to himself. “This is… just a bad dream… Right! Just a bad dream. You still haven’t gotten up. What a story you’ll have to tell Steph when you go visit her! Seriously! Skywalking with that wizard, and getting turned into an old man by the Witch of the Waste! Of course you’re asleep. Just… Stay calm, Tim. This is all just a dream… Just a dream.”

Tim comforted himself with that thought as he went through the motions of going to bed. He chuckled to himself as he slipped into his night shirt, realizing that it still fit. Had to be a dream. There was no way that Old-Tim would fit into the same clothes that Teen-Tim wore.

“Just a dream,” Tim told himself as he sank into bed. “It’ll all be over when you wake up…”

~*~*~*~*~*~

But it was not just a dream. Tim despaired when he woke up the next morning with the same aching joints he’d had when he’d gone to bed the night before. He stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror for a good while, not really paying attention to the time until he heard someone calling his name as they came up the stairs.

“Timothy? Timothy!”

Shit! His mother was home. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear his father’s voice echoing up the stairs while Jack talked to the Fox women.

Janet Drake called out to him a few more times, knocking on his door before trying the locked handle.

“Timothy!”

“Don’t come in!” Tim cried with a croak. “I… I’ve got a bad cold. I don’t want you or Father to catch it.”

He flinched at the sound of his voice. It was deeper and had more of a gravel tone to it than he was used to.

“You sound awful!” his mother’s voice cried from the other side of the door. “Like some 90-year old man.”

Tim snorted at the comparison. She wasn’t far off the mark. He certainly looked 90.

“I’m just going to stay in bed all day,” he informed her.

“...If you insist,” his mother said slowly. He could practically hear the suspicion in her voice. Or maybe that was just his panic and paranoia talking. “Make sure you rest up. Your father or I will come up later with some lunch for you.”

“Thank you,” Tim called, waiting anxiously as her footsteps faded back down the stairs.

When he was sure that she was gone he looked back in the mirror.

“Well…” he sighed at his reflection. “It could be worse. You’re still in decent shape for an elderly chap, occasional aches aside. You don’t feel ill. At least you still have all your teeth and aren’t bald yet.”

He paused, listening to his mother and father talking to the Fox women about some artifact that they’d found somewhere out west.

Tim knew that he couldn’t stay. His parents would discover him sooner or later and how was he going to convince them that he was their son? He was quick to pack a light bag. All of his clothes still fit him somehow, but he only took what he thought was necessary. He went out to the kitchen and packed a parcel of bread and cheese before sneaking out the back, heart hammering away in his chest the entire time, fearful that someone would discover him.

Luckily for him, it appeared that the store was quite busy that morning due to his parent’s return and he met no one on his way out aside from a couple of men at the entrance to the alley that ran behind the store. Both men were reading the morning paper, however, and didn’t notice him.

“Look at this!” one man was saying. “The Crown Prince is missing!”

“It was the al Ghuls wasn’t it?” growled the other.

“I hope not,” the first said. “This war will never end otherwise. Maybe he finally eloped with Lady Sandsmark.”

That bit of news surprised Tim, but he didn’t stop to inquire about it and hurried on his way. He’d heard a lot (of gossip) about Prince Conner from Tam and Tiffany. He was very well liked by the citizenry in general, much like his father. Tim hoped that the Prince was okay and that the papers were only stirring up more war propaganda.

He managed to make his way to the edge of the city, hoping to find a ride out into the country. He finally found a man and his son who were transporting bales of hay out to the local dairy farms. Tim sat himself on the back of the cart, thankful to be off his feet. By midday they’d made it out to a farm at the foot of the hills that lead up into the mountains where the Wastes were. Where the evil witches and wizards were rumored to dwell. The wagoner and the farmer tried to dissuade Tim against traveling further, but Tim remained steadfast. He’d resolved to track down the Witch of the Wastes or at least someone else just as powerful who might be able to change him back. If his efforts were in vain, Tim reasoned that he could at least make a life for himself somewhere.

The climb was tedious and because of his weakened strength and constitution, Tim had to make stops frequently to catch his breath. It was while he was taking one of these breaks that he stopped to eat lunch. His feet were killing him and he wished that he had a cane or at least a walking stick. As he finished eating his bread and cheese, Tim spotted a straight branch poking out of a nearby shrub.

“...That might make a good walking stick,” Tim mused, grunting as he pushed himself back up onto his feet.

As he hobbled over he noted the size of it. It might be too big. Not to be discouraged just yet, however, Tim pulled on the branch and tried to wiggle it loose. His back ached with the effort he was putting into it, but Tim was determined now to get it free. That last shove had loosened it. Tim pushed down to try to pry the stubborn branch up one last time when it finally gave and thrust itself straight up. Tim, not expecting the sudden movement, jumped back in alarm, staring up at what had been on the other end of the stick. It was a scarecrow dressed in navy slacks, white gloves, a black suit jacket, yellow waistcoat, a red dress shirt, blue bowtie, and a beaten looking top hat set atop a children’s football that had eyes and a mouth drawn on it for a head.

After looking the scarecrow up and down for a minute Tim frowned.

“How on earth are you standing on your own like that?”

Of course the scarecrow didn’t answer him.

“...At least you’re not upside down anymore.”

Not wanting to dwell near the strange scarecrow longer than was probably safe, Tim hurried on his way again. He’d managed to get most of the way up the foothills by the time the sun was starting to go down. The downside was that it was starting to get cold and even with another coat to go over his current attire, he was still freezing. With a shiver he glanced back down at the city of Gotham that was still spread out before him. He knew he’d traveled a long ways, but the city was so expansive that it still looked like it was close by. Then he heard something from further down the path he was on. Glancing down he saw that blasted scarecrow he’d found earlier bouncing up the steep incline.

“Go away!” Tim shouted. “Don’t follow me! There is no need to thank me. You don’t owe me a thing. I’m sure you have a spell on you and I’ve had more than enough of witches and spells! Just go find some field and stand in it!”

The scarecrow paused, swaying on it’s stick in the wind. Seeing it stop, Tim turned back around and continued his climb. He admittedly struggled up the steep incline, bowled over by the wind. He was so focused on not taking a tumble back down the path that he hadn’t noticed the scarecrow following him again until it was right next to him. He glanced up just in time to see it tilt sideways a bit and deposit a cane he hadn’t noticed that had been hanging on its arm. Tim stared in surprise at the black polished wood. The handle appeared to have bats etched on it. After picking up the cane and propping himself up with it, Tim realized that it was the perfect height for him.

“Thank you!” he said, smiling up at the scarecrow. “This cane is perfect. It’s just what I needed. While you’re being so helpful, maybe you could run off and find me a place to stay.”

Tim had been joking, but the scarecrow jumped in place a couple of times before turning around and bounced off. Tim chuckled, wondering what on earth the story behind that football headed scarecrow was. Tim continued his climb, but after what felt like hours later - but was probably only a few minutes - he heard a low hum in the air. Glancing up he saw the sun reflect off the metal of an airship’s hull before it disappeared behind the clouds. But it wasn’t any ordinary airship.

“What is a battleship doing out here?” he wondered before a gust of wind hit him, chilling him to the bone.

He tried to go further but after a while he had to give up and sat with his back against the wind, huddling in his coats. After he caught his breath he caught a whiff of smoke. He perked up at the thought of a cabin and the possibility of a hot meal being nearby. Just as he was reaching the crest of the hill he’d spent the better half of the afternoon and the evening climbing he heard mechanical whirrs and clangs and steam hissing before a metal monster that looked like it was cobbled together with various building parts came lumbering up from the other side. And hopping in front of it was that damned scarecrow. When it saw Tim it hopped over, practically vibrating with pride at its find.

“You football head!” Tim squawked, recognizing the structure he’d seen occasionally roaming the hills from the back room window back at his parents’ shop. “That’s Grayson’s castle! That is  _ NOT _ what I meant when I asked for a place to stay!”

Of course the scarecrow didn’t respond and only continued to sway happily in the wind as the huge hulking mobile home walked over them, it’s belly high above their heads before coming to a stop. Tim couldn’t help but gawk at the thing. It was massive and seemed to be a strange mash up of metal sheets, wood paneling, brick, stone, concrete and plaster. It’s “legs” looked like metal plated chicken legs. The front had a face and as it had passed overhead it had looked distinctly frog like with chimney pipes for bulging eyes and a gaping maw with metal jaws, wooden teeth and a plated metal tongue.

“Would you look at that,” Tim breathed, not sure if he should marvel at the amount of magic that it must take to hold something like that together, or be disgusted by the repulsive appearance. “They call this a castle?”

The structure shuddered above them for a moment before steam hissed out of various ports and it began moving again. Tim moved out of the way as a low hanging part of the structure at the back end of the “castle” moved towards them. After it passed, Tim noticed that it was a doorway with a bright lantern hanging over it. 

The scarecrow bounced next to it, seeming to encourage Tim to hurry up and enter before the castle picked up speed and left him behind. Tim raced towards the moving door. He managed to grab hold of the railing on the step leading up to the door, but couldn’t find the energy to hoist himself up.

“Hold on!” he huffed. “For heaven’s sake! Are you going to let me on or not?!”

As if to answer him, the back door suddenly dropped and scoped him up onto the step. Tim scrambled to regain his feet and stood there for a moment panting against the door before finally opening it. Peeking inside he saw twelve steps that lead up to what appeared to be the main floor. It was dark inside except for a little light that came from what Tim assumed was a dying fire. Compared to the chilly wind at his back, the warm air wafting over him from the inside was nice and inviting. In that moment Tim didn’t care that this was supposed to be the home of one of the most feared wizards in the kingdom.

He turned around, seeing that the scarecrow was still somehow keeping pace with the moving castle.

“It seems nice and warm enough inside. I’m going in. I’m sure that Grayson won’t want to eat the heart of an old man like me. Thank you and take care, Football Head.”

Tim waved as the scarecrow stopped keeping pace with the castle and gave a little bow, it’s gloves seeming to wave in farewell.

Tim turned back around and entered the castle, shutting the door firmly behind him. He hobbled slowly up the stairs and glanced around nervously looking for any sign of Grayson. Seeing no one, Tim slowly made his way towards the dying fire in an open fireplace and the chair he could see set before it. Noting how low the fire was, Tim grabbed a couple of logs that he could see stacked beside the fireplace and set them on the flame. Glancing around Tim took in the dusty looking walls and the cobwebs coating the ceiling rafters. It looked like no one had bothered to clean the place in years even though there were many things crowding every available surface. There were strings of onions, bunches of herbs, and bundles of strange roots hanging from the exposed ceiling beams, and wizardly looking things cluttering the tables like leather books, crooked bottles filled with various colored liquids, and an old brown grinning human skull. It certainly wasn’t what Tim pictured when he thought of what a castle might look like on the inside.

“At least it’s warm,” Tim muttered as he settled into the chair and promptly started to nod off. He was exhausted. He was beginning to see eyes staring back at him from within the fire. 

“I don’t envy you, Gramps. That is quite the spell you’re under.”

Tim jerked awake at the sound of another voice, eyes falling to the fireplace that most certainly  _ did _ have eyes - bright green ones - and a wavering red mouth that flickered as it “spoke”.

“You’re gonna to have a hard time breaking that one.”

“The fire talked,” Tim gasped, tensing.

“Let me guess,” the fire said in a lazy tone. If Tim didn’t know any better, he’d say that the fire was smirking. “You can’t even tell anyone about it.”

“...Are you Grayson?” Tim asked.

“Ha!” the fire barked, colorful sparks issuing from it’s mouth and a flicker of a white tongue of flame danced over its eyes. “He wishes he was as awesome as me. I’m the fire demon, Jason!”

“A fire demon?” Tim repeated in awe, leaning forward a little. “Can you break the spell I’m under?”

“Sure,” Jason said, flames flickering in a delighted fashion, obviously loving the attention Tim was giving him. “If you break the spell that’s keeping me here I’ll break the spell that’s on you. A fair and equal trade.”

Tim hummed a little as he leaned back in the chair. Now that the initial excitement of meeting an actual fire demon had worn off, Tim remembered hearing how crafty and untrustworthy demons were. Making bargains with them was very dangerous.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Tim asked suspiciously. “You promise to help me if I help you, but can you keep that promise?”

“Demons don’t make promises,” Jason huffed, a puff of smoke floating up the chimney.

“Then I guess you’ll have to find someone else,” Tim shrugged.

“Oh come on!” the fire demon cried. “You should feel sorry for me! I’m an exploited demon! That spell keeps me fastened to this hearth and I can’t stir so much as a foot away from it. Grayson treats me like I’m his slave. It burns me up! I’m forced to do most of the magic around here. I have to maintain the castle and keep it moving and do all the special effects that scare people off, as well as anything else Grayson wants. Do you realize how much work that is?! Grayson’s quite heartless, you know.”

“Sounds rough,” Tim allowed, feeling a tiny twinge of sympathy for the demon. It had to take an awful amount of power to keep the hodge-podge castle together, let alone moving. “Don’t you get anything out of this contract at all?”

“I wouldn’t have entered into it if I didn’t, Gramps,” Jason said, practically pleading, his eyes flashing a sad looking green. “But I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known what it would be like. Listen, if you can figure out the contract I have with Grayson, then you can break the spell! After that, then I can easily break the spell that’s on you!”

Tim hummed. Jason had to be very powerful if he was able to power the castle. He supposed that it made sense that his powers would be inhibited by such duties so of course his spell would have to be broken before he could break Tim’s curse.

“Alright,” Tim sighed. “If you agree to break the spell on me.”

“Done!” The fire demon cheered, his flaming body sparking and leaping gleefully up the chimney. “I’ll break your spell the instant you break my contract!”

“Then tell me how to break it.”

Jason’s flames dimmed a bit and his green eyes looked away.

“I can’t,” he sighed. “Part of the contract is that neither Grayson nor I can say what the main clause entails.”

Tim pursed his lips, frustrated, and feeling as though he’d been tricked. Jason crackled guiltily before speaking up once more. “Now don’t be hasty, Gramps. You can find out what it is if you watch and listen carefully. Please, just try. The contract isn’t doing either of us any good in the long run. I swear I keep my word. The fact that I’m stuck here shows that I do.”

“But if I have to watch and listen, that means that I have to stay here in Grayson’s castle,” Tim said with an uneasy feeling growing in his gut. “What possible excuse can I give for doing that?”

“We’ll think of something. Grayson is pretty useless at most things. In fact,” the demon said, sounding amused, “he’s too wrapped up in himself to see beyond his nose half the time. We can deceive him - as long as you agree to stay.”

“Very well,” Tim murmured, feeling himself slipping into sleep. “I’ll stay. This place is disgusting, though. It needs a good cleaning.”

“Then maybe you should become our new cleaning lady,” Jason cackled.

“Not a girl,” Tim grumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s chapter 1. I hope to post chapter 2 soon. Damian is coming! :D
> 
> Ok, so I've obviously taken a lot from the movie, but a lot comes from the book too and I hope that flushes out more on the character backgrounds in this story, especially concerning our favorite Robins. If you guys haven't read the book version of Howl's Moving Castle, you're missing out. It is such a fun read and is actually the first book of three that take place in the same magical world. If this fic gets a good reception, I might just expand upon this universe and maybe write the other two books as well. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Fun Facts:
> 
> Dicomacs - DC Comics :P I know, it's a horrible, terrible pun.
> 
> Football Head - I didn’t want to use Turnip Head, so I changed it and made a Charlie Brown reference.


	2. In Which There is A Lot of Cleaning to be Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 2 is here!
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> See end note for some bonus details about this story (Damian in particular)

Tim was awoken by a loud and persistent knocking. He startled awake, his back cracking at the sudden movement. Blinking sleepily, Tim looked around. At first he was confused by the dusty room he was in. It took him a couple of seconds to orientate himself, but Tim finally remembered that he was in Grayson’s so-called “castle.” The mess and filth was even worse in the daylight. The hardwood floors were scratched and there were streaks of stains rubbed into the wood’s finish. The fireplace wasn’t much better now that he could see all of it. The fire was nothing but smoldering embers now in the middle of a mound of soot and ash that filled the entire firebox and spilled out over the raised lip of the hearth. It looked like no one had bothered to clean it out in years, much like the rest of what he could seen of the castle.

The knocking that had awoken him returned sounding more persistent and before Tim could make up his mind whether or not to answer it, he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps upstairs that quickly started to descend the staircase off to the right of the fireplace. Panicking slightly, Tim pretended to be asleep again, slouching low in his chair.

“Who is this?” he heard a young boy’s voice snap. “How’d he get in here?”

“Coast City door,” Jason answered, sounding bored.

Tim heard the boy tisk and scurry behind him, rifling through something. He peeked out of the corner of his eye and saw the boy quickly clasp a black hooded cloak with a yellow inner lining. The kid then pulled the hood over his head and his facial features were transformed into that of an old man with a long grey beard.

“Stand by,” the disguised boy huffed as he descended the steps to the door Tim had come in through the night before. He fiddled with a knob on the door above the handle for a moment and a light chiming ding drew Tim’s attention to a colored wheel on the wall above the entryway. There was an arrow at the top of the wheel and it was currently on a quarter that was colored blue.

“Mr. Mayor, good day,” the boy’s voice, deepened to sound more elderly, spoke to a man in fine clothes standing outside the door.

To Tim’s surprise, from what he could see from his spot in the chair, the view out the door was no longer showing the hills or mountains of the Wastes that he had traversed the day before. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” the mayor said, nodding at the small figure in the doorway. “Is the great Wizard Robin at home?”

“I’m afraid that the Master is out at the moment,” the boy said. “I speak for him in his absence.” 

“I come bearing an invitation from his Majesty, the King. The time for war is upon us. His majesty desires that every witch and wizard aid our homeland,” the mayor said gravely. “Wizard Robin is asked to report to the palace immediately. That is all.”

While the mayor and the kid exchanged farewells, Tim heaved himself up onto his feet and added more wood to the fire. He wasn’t sure how fire demons worked, but he assumed that like any fire, it needed a fuel source. Jason hummed appreciatively, fingers of flame reaching for the wood eagerly.

“So the rumors of war are as serious as the papers say for once,” Tim mused.

“Tt! And who might you be? What do you think you’re doing here?” the boy demanded, stomping up the stairs still using the “old man” voice he’d used when speaking to the mayor.

“Jason let me in,” Tim said, smiling pleasantly.

“I did not!” Jason protested. “He just wandered in here from the Wastes.”

“He’s from the Wastes? How do we know he’s not some vagabond wizard or a witch’s servant?” the kid snapped, throwing back his hood. His disguise disappeared and revealed the face of a boy who couldn’t be older than 12. He had piercing dark blue eyes, hair that was pitch black, and his skin was tanned.

“Do you really think I’d let such a person in here?” Jason scowled, flames crackling angrily in indignation.

A bell rang before the kid could say anything more.

“Coast City door again,” Jason sighed.

The boy frowned, stuffing an envelope that he must have gotten from the mayor into a large book that had all sorts of papers sticking out of it. “Must be a customer,” he grumbled.

Tim bit back a smile. He’d never seen such a grumpy looking kid before. It was more adorable than threatening. 

“Stand by,” the kid called again as he threw the hood back over his head, his magical disguise of an old man returning before he opened the door.

This time there was a little redheaded girl standing there.

“State your purpose,” the boy grunted.

“M-my Papa sent me to pick up a spell,” the girl stammered.

“Name?”

“Harper.”

“Tt! The usual spell?”

“I-I believe so.”

“Come in then,” the boy huffed, opening the door further to let the girl in.

Tim smiled kindly at the girl as they came up the stairs. The girl smiled back, but remained at the top of the stairs, looking like she didn’t want to come in any further.

“Keep quiet, stay put, and behave yourself, old man,” the boy hissed at Tim as he passed.

Tim, rather curious about their location, ignored the warning and moved towards the window facing out the same way as the door. To his wonder and delight, there was indeed a view of Coast City’s famous blue ocean. From what he could tell, they were somewhere up on the cliffs near a main business area near the docks.

“Excuse me, mister,” the little girl piped up. “Are you a wizard too?”

Tim turned to face the girl and grinned.

“Of course! I’m the scariest wizard of them all.”

The girl giggled, but snapped to attention when the old man/boy approached her and thrust a small paper parcel filled with some sort of powder at her. “Our finest hangover cure. Your father should know what to do with it by now.”

“Thank you!” the girl said, handing over money for the spell before hightailing it out of there.

As soon as she was gone and the door was shut, the boy turned on Tim, pointing a finger sharply at him. 

“Don’t go telling lies to our customers. It’s bad for business!” he snapped.

“What about you?” Tim scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re wearing a disguise.”

“I have to. I’m practicing my magic,” the boy growled.

Before Tim could say anything else, the bell rang for a third time.

“It’s the Metropolis door this time,” Jason informed them.

The boy shot Tim another glare before throwing the hood back on. “Stand by.”

He stopped at the door and fiddled with the knob again. This time the wheel on the wall turned until it stopped with another ding on the red quarter. When the boy opened the door, a man wearing the colors of a King’s messenger stood beyond.

“Good day,” the messenger said, “Might this be the residence of the Wizard Nightwing?”

“It is,” the old man/boy grunted.

“I bear an invitation from his Majesty the King. Please inform Wizard Nightwing that all witches and wizards are required to report for duty at the palace.”

“I will inform him right away,” the boy promised.

Tim descended the stairs, staring in awe at the rich and ornate buildings he could see outside the door past the boy and the departing messenger. The royal palace could actually be seen up on the hill beyond the tall buildings that spanned over the next few city blocks.

“This is really Metropolis, the Royal City,” Tim said softly in awe.

“Yes, yes,” the boy said irritably. “Now get back inside or you’ll lose your nose!”

Tim stepped back in time to avoid having the door slammed in his face.

“Stop wandering around!” the boy ordered, stomping up the stairs, and began muttering to himself in a language that Tim was unfamiliar with. It reminded him a bit of the language that Cassandra used to mutter to herself whenever she was feeling frustrated. 

Tim mused quietly to himself for a moment on the bottom step, eyeing the knob and the door handle below. The round knob had a colored circle above it, the same red that the arrow on the wheel was currently pointing at. Curious, Tim twisted the knob and the circle above it and the wheel on the wall changed color. Green. When he pulled down on the handle below the knob the door opened and outside was the dense foggy land of the Wastes where he’d come in from. Stepping out onto the front step, he saw that this was where the main body of the moving castle resided.

Stepping back inside, Tim turned the knob again to the blue color and found himself back in Coast City. The red took him back to Metropolis. Before he could try to turn the knob to try to find the black color - the only color on the wheel he hadn’t seen the destination of yet - the boy stomped back over.

“Stop that, you old fool! I’m getting angry.”

“This is a magic house, isn’t it?” Tim asked, already knowing the answer, but questions seemed to irritate the boy so he asked anyway. “Where does the black one lead?”

“Only Grayson knows that,” the kid huffed, turning his back on Tim and stormed away again.

Tim snickered quietly to himself. The boy was certainly easy to rile up.

“Whatever. Do what you want. Grayson can deal with you,” the boy announced imperiously. “I’m having breakfast.”

Tim followed the boy into what appeared to be the kitchen area and watched him pull out a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. Frowning to himself, Tim spotted a platter of sliced bacon and a basket of eggs.

“Wouldn’t you rather have some bacon and eggs?” Tim asked.

“We can’t use the fire,” the boy huffed, shoving papers and books and things aside to clear a spot for himself at the dining table. “Grayson isn’t here.”

Tim hummed, spotting pans and skillets hanging on the kitchen walls. He grabbed one and wiped it down just to make sure that it was clean enough to cook off of before approaching the fire.

“Don’t worry. I can cook,” Tim told the boy.

“It doesn't matter if you can cook,” the kid sighed as if Tim was being particularly obtuse. “Jason only listens to Grayson...sometimes.”

“That’s right, geezer. I’m not cooking for you,” Jason sneered, flames flickering menacingly as Tim approached with the pan, the basket of eggs and the plate of uncooked bacon.

Tim ignored him, rolling up his shirt sleeves to the elbow before hoisting the pan. “Alright, Jason. Let’s get cooking.”

“Forget it!” Jason snarled. “I’m a demon. I don’t  _ cook  _ damn it! I answer to no one.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, it’s just some eggs and bacon. Behave or I’ll dump a bucket of water on you,” Tim huffed before lowering his voice and eyeing the demon with a mischievous glint in his eyes.”Or would you rather I told Grayson about our bargain?”

Jason spluttered incoherently and angrily for a moment before hissing, “I  _ never _ should have let you in here, you old bastard.”

“So what’ll it be?” Tim asked, shoving the pan into Jason’s flames.

Jason resisted for a moment before dying down into a small flame with an angry hiss.

“That’s right,” Tim cooed. “That’s a good fire.”

“Here’s another curse, Gramps,” Jason growled. “May all your bacon burn!”

“He… Jason is doing what you say?” the boy gasped, sounding a touch impressed.

“I rather feel like tea. Do you?” Tim asked, smiling over his shoulder at the surprised looking boy. “Have you got a kettle?“

“...Sure,” the boy nodded, hopping down from his seat and scurried into the kitchen.

“Hey!” Jason barked, flames flaring up minutely around the pan. “What do you think you’re doing, Damian?! Don’t get the kettle! Who’s side are you on anyway, you little shit?”

Tim smiled to himself as the fire demon spouted angry words at the boy - who was apparently called Damian - but was ignored. Then the wheel by above the door dinged again, this time pointing to the black quarter. When the door opened it was pitch black outside. Nothing could be seen aside from the figure walking in. Tim was surprised to see the strange blond man he’d met on his way to the Birds of Prey cafe in Gotham. But that meant… Could that man really be...

“Grayson!” Damian called out, rushing over to watch the man trudge up the stairs. “The king’s messengers were here. They said that you have to report to the palace. As both Robin  _ and _ Nightwing.”

“That sounds a bit ominous,” the man’s voice mused in a soft, weary tone. “It’s because Bruce is missing. What did he have to get himself lost in the Waste for? The King seems to think that if those closest to Wizard Wayne couldn’t find him, then he must be dead and someone else will do instead if he can find a powerful enough magic user.”

Tim tried to keep his attention on the food cooking in the pan and not letting it burn. His heart started beating wildly in his chest. The man was the fearsome Wizard Grayson. Tim wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he was slightly comforted when he remembered how kind the man had been to him only a couple of days ago.

Grayson seemed to have finally realized that someone else was present and walked over towards Tim, taking in what was happening at the fireplace.

“Jason,” Grayson said, drawing the name out sounding amused. “You’re being so obedient.”

“Not on purpose,” Jason said in a way that, if he’d been human, sounded like he was pouting. “He bullied me.”

“Not an easy thing to do. Not just anybody can do that,” Grayson chuckled, the light sound easing the tension in Tim’s shoulders, only for it to return when the wizard’s attention turned to him. “And you are who?”

“Ah… You may call me Timothy,” Tim stammered, saying the first thing that came to mind. “I’m your new housekeeper.” He was  _ not  _ a cleaning lady, thank you Jason, but the place could certainly use some maintenance.

Grayson hummed, blue eyes twinkling knowingly before taking the pan and wooden spoon from Tim who stumbled back a step in surprise as the wizard took over the cooking.

“Pass me two more bacon slices and six more of those eggs, if you please,” Grayson instructed.

Tim dutifully handed over the requested food items, setting the bacon in the pan and handing over the eggs one at a time. Grayson cracked the eggs on the raised hearth before depositing the yolk in the pan with the bacon and the empty shells went to Jason. Jason’s fiery visage appeared below the pan, his red mouth snapping open to consume the shells, making delighted hungry noises as he ate. Damian approached at some point and handed Tim a kettle full of water. Tim nodded his thanks and set the kettle deep in the ashes where Jason’s flames could heat it.

“So who hired you?” Grayson asked after a few minutes of cooking.

“Jason did,” Tim said, eyeing the fire demon in amusement as he munched on the egg shells, obviously enjoying himself. “He’s disgusted with how dirty it is in here. I’m rather inclined to agree with him. I’ve never seen such a filthy house.”

Grayson hummed, a smile pulling at his lips, before asking Damian to get the plates. Food done, Grayson took the pan over to the table where Damian was clearing off an even larger space so that more than one person could eat at the table.

“You’re all ganging up on me,” Jason complained. “After all I do for you. Jerks.”

Tim smiled sympathetically at the fire demon. Jason rolled his bright green eyes, but his mouth formed a smirk. A tongue of flame shot out from his main body and poked pointedly at the kettle. Tim got the hint and picked it up, using his coat as a barrier so that he didn’t burn himself on the hot metal.

“What are you just standing there for?” Damian demanded, making Tim jump and nearly pour scalding water down his front. “Come have some breakfast, Timothy.”

“Now, now, Damian,” Grayson tutted. “Mind your manners. Don’t mind him, Timothy. He’s just grumpy in the mornings.”

Damian scowled at the blond man. Tim doubted that it was only in the mornings that the kid was grumpy. He’d yet to see the boy crack a smile.

As Tim took his seat at the table, Grayson served the food and Damian prepared and poured the tea after collecting the kettle from Tim. Then the boy thrust three eating utensils in his face.

“Pick one. Everything else is dirty,” the boy explained. Frankly even the fork and two spoons offered to Tim looked questionable. 

Tim picked one of the two spoons and made sure to wipe it on a clean spot on his shirt before using it to eat.

“I’ve certainly got my work cut out for me,” Tim mused.

Damian only tutted in response while Grayson winced seemingly out of guilt, but was chuckling again. He was nothing like what Tim had imagined the fearsome Wizard Grayson would be like. For one thing, the man always seemed to have an easy going smile on his face. He wasn’t intimidating on his own at present, but Tim figured that he had to be more than he seemed. Grayson hadn’t earned such a fearsome reputation without good reason.

Grayson cut three slices off the bread loaf Damian had gotten out earlier and handed them out before raising his cup of tea in a toast.

“Let’s enjoy our good meal. Bon Appetite.”

“Bon appetite,” Damian echoed. “I can’t remember the last time we had a real breakfast.”

That guilty look was back on Grayson’s face with a wry smile, but he said nothing and picked at his food while Damian tucked in heartily. Tim watched in amazement as the boy seemed to inhale his food but somehow kept his manners intact. Someone at one point had taught the kid proper dining etiquette it seemed. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Grayson spoke up again.

“So, what’s in your pocket, Timothy?”

Tim blinked in surprise at being addressed again so suddenly. He patted his pocket and heard the crackle of paper wrinkling. He pulled out a red square of paper that had been folded in half, and frowned at it in confusion. He couldn’t remember seeing it when he’d gotten dressed yesterday morning.

“May I?” Grayson asked, hand held out for it.

Tim shrugged and passed him the paper, but the moment it touched the wizard’s skin it sparked and black flames ghosted over Grayson’s hand. The paper fell open on the table, revealing a strange symbol drawn on it. The paper disintegrated, but the symbol remained, burning itself into the wood.

“Scorch marks,” Damian hissed. “Grayson, can you read them?”

“This is ancient sorcery. Quite powerful too.”

“Is it from the Witch of the Waste?” the boy demanded.

“So it would seem. It says, ‘You who caught a falling star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine’… That can’t be good for the table,” Grayson sighed as he extended his hand and placed it over the symbol burned into the table. He then proceeded to slowly swipe his hand over it. The symbol beneath burned and more black flames rose up along his hand. When Grayson finished moving his hand over the entire thing and swept it away the symbol was gone and there were only faint traces of black soot on his hand.

“It’s gone,” Damian said, a touch of awe in his voice.

“The scorch mark may be gone, but the spell is still there. Please, excuse me you two, and continue your meal,” Grayson said as he rose from the table with his still mostly full plate, before approaching the fireplace and dumping the rest of his food into Jason’s eager jaws. “Jason, move the castle 100 kilometers to the east. And while you’re at it, make hot water for my bath.”

“Fine, like moving the castle isn’t hard enough,” Jason snarled as the wizard retreated up the staircase.

“You don’t work for the Witch of the Waste, do you?” Damian asked Tim suspiciously. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim scoffed, gritting his teeth angrily. “She’s the one who…”

Tim found that he couldn’t finish his sentence. His teeth had suddenly glued themselves together. Right. He wasn’t allowed to tell Damian about the curse that had been put on him.

“Confound it!” he snarled, slamming his fists onto the table, knocking over precarious stacks of books and papers that had been on it. Damian had been fortunate enough to snatch up his plate before it could topple to the floor too. “Damn that Witch of the Waste. If I ever get my hands on her, I’ll wring her pretty little neck.”

Damian only continued to stare at him for a moment.

“Finish your breakfast,” Tim snapped. “I’m going to start cleaning as soon as I’m done eating. I have to start somewhere and it might as well be with the dishes.”

Damian apparently decided to take Tim at his word because he finished his breakfast without comment.

~*~*~*~*~*~

True to his word, Timothy had started cleaning as soon as he was finished with his meal. He’d tried to start in the kitchen but the mess of the main entry/living room/kitchen/work space was so great, he’d had to rethink his strategy. Though he grumbled all the while, Damian graciously offered his assistance in clearing out spaces for Timothy to clean. If the old man was going to mess with their home, Damian thought he might as well make sure that the old fool didn’t disrupt any of their artifacts and spells. 

He cleared everything off the workbench, shelves, the cupboards and even took down the herbs hanging from the beams so that those could be cleaned too. They turned the magic door to the blue Coast City quarter and started dragging out what tables and chairs and other assorted furniture they could before cleaning out everything else just to get the room clear. 

It took the greater part of the morning, but once most of the stuff was out of the room everything remaining was covered in dust covers that Timothy had found buried in an old broom cupboard that Damian hadn’t known was there due to being hidden behind piles of stuff. Timothy then tied cloths over his nose and mouth and hair and began to sweep the dirt and dust and cobwebs off the ceiling and walls and then the floor. 

Damian wrinkled his nose in distaste as a host of insects and mice started to scurry about, their nests disturbed, and began fleeing the house as Timothy relentlessly tackled his cleaning job, growling under his breath at the state of the castle. The old man said he couldn’t understand how a wizard and a young boy could stand living in such a mess. Quite frankly, neither could Damian. He hadn’t realized how bad the castle had gotten over the years. Grayson had really let it go since Damian had moved in. 

The amount of dust kicked into the air was heavy and Damian found himself scurrying about in his old man disguise, snatching up a few stray items to take outside, coughing as he did so. Damian would never admit it if asked, but seeing Timothy attack the floors and ceiling and walls with such ferocity and determination scared him a little. Wherever did someone that old find that kind of energy and strength? 

When a customer had approached him outside, wondering if his potion was ready, Damian had to tell them to come back later. 

“There’s a mage on a rampage in there,” he’d said. 

Granted, Timothy was no mage, but the way the old man tisked under his breath as he cleaned reminded Damian of his father’s old friend and assistant, Alfred Pennyworth. He hadn’t known the man very well during the short time he’d been in Damian’s life, but knew that the mage had served as his grandfather’s assistant before becoming his father’s. Pennyworth had been this strange combination of housekeeper, mentor, confidant, and grandfather figure and had made his displeasure known immediately if Damian, Grayson, or any of his father’s other apprentices had done something he’d disapproved of. Pennyworth had run a “tight ship” as the saying went and his death had hit everyone hard, especially when it happened so soon after Damian’s father’s disappearance in the Waste. Since then, Damian had moved out of his family’s manor and had moved in with Grayson. It had been just the two of them and Jason for the last five years. 

Once the door and window stopped emitting clouds of dust, Damian decided it was safe enough to head back inside. He found Timothy wiping down the tables and chairs that had been too big and heavy to drag outside. Damian was forced to help move things when they moved on to cleaning out the kitchen area and the nook under the stairs, but by mid afternoon he was rather impressed with Timothy’s work. He couldn’t remember the main floor looking this clean since before Pennyworth had died. 

Timothy shooed Damian up the stairs after that so that he could mop the floors. Rather than go to his room, Damian perched himself up on the mid-story landing and watched Timothy transform the downstairs into a clean, gleaming living area. The only place left to clean was the fireplace. Jason’s fire had died down over the course of the day and he looked like he was dangerously close to burning out. Grayson wouldn’t like that. He was very fond of Jason. In spite of their constant sniping and back talk, the two were close friends. Damian couldn’t remember when Jason had entered their lives, but it felt like the fire demon had always been there. Maybe he had been. The castle had been Grayson’s even before Damian had moved in.

“Timothy,” Jason groaned, sounding weak. “Tim... Timmy… Timmers… I’m going out. I need some fresh firewood. Quick! I’ll die without it!”

Timothy was currently hefting a large tarp in his arms. He grunted, nodding, before approaching the fire. He set down the tarp with a heavy thud and pulled out a cauldron from the adjoining kitchen space and set it on the edge of the hearth. Damian watched curiously as the old man put a log of firewood inside before reaching for the fire tongs. Jason was apparently too weak to see what Tim had done and protested vehemently to being picked up by the last burning sliver of wood left in the fireplace, the pulsing lump that was the demon’s core hung low and skimmed the ash. Tim eyed it curiously before lifting Jason high enough to keep it out of the ash and soot.

“What are you doing?!” Jason screeched - at least it probably would have been a screech if he wasn’t so weak. “Don’t! I’ll fall! You crazy old bastard with tongs!”

“Oh hush,” Timothy tisked, setting Jason’s core and tiny flame on the log in the cauldron. “You’ll be fine you demon child. I’m just cleaning out the ashes.”

Timothy then proceeded to unroll the tarp over the freshly cleaned floor around the fireplace and carefully swept the ashes out onto it. Jason grumbled angry obscenities at the old man. The unimpressed looks Timothy occasionally gave the fire demon made Damian snicker. His smile vanished the moment he felt a hand ruffle his hair.

“Richard!” he hissed. 

“So how’s our new housekeeper coming along?” Grayson asked.

“Timothy is… formidable,” Damian allowed. “He doesn’t do a bad job.”

“Not too shabby at all,” Grayson agreed with a sad smile as his eyes roved over the clean floors, walls and ceiling. Things were still piled up high on various chairs and tables after having been brought back in from outside, and Damian dreaded having to help sort those things out.

Jason’s voice started shouting again, drawing their attention back towards the fireplace. Timothy had finished sweeping up the ashes and was leaving with a full tarp out the door. Not a speck of soot had dirtied the freshly cleaned floors. Again, Damian found that he was impressed. Grayson descended the staircase then and set a couple of new logs in the firebox. Damian followed and watched as the older man picked up the cauldron Timothy had put Jason in and dumped it’s contents into the fireplace.

“Dick!” Jason roared, flames erupting angrily as the fire demon resettled his form. “You pompous ass! How  _ dare _ you inflict more suffering upon my person! Don’t you know what that little old fart has already put me through?!”

“I believe that he’s done a rather good job sprucing up the place. And he was kind enough to clean out your fireplace. All those ashes really weren’t good for you. They could have built up so high they could have caved in and smothered you.”

“He stuffed me in a crock!” Jason bellowed. “I could have gone out! If I die, you die too, Dickie, or did you forget that?!”

“We’re alive aren’t we? He put you in a dry container with fresh firewood. Though I’m sure he’ll be more considerate about moving you next time. Won’t you, Timmy?”

“Of course, sir,” Timothy said, bowing courteously at the waist from his position at the top of the entryway stairs. 

Damian hadn’t noticed Timothy’s return. The old man was surprisingly quite. Another quality he shared with old Pennyworth. Were all old men like that, or was his family just special and naturally attracted this peculiar breed of men to their lives? In spite of his initial misgivings, Damian had a strange feeling that Timothy was here to stay. He wasn’t the only one. He noticed Grayson’s smile straining minutely, before the man headed for the door, closing it on Coast City and turned the knob to the black quarter.

“Are you going out?” Damian asked.

“I’m afraid I have business to attend to, little brother,” Grayson sighed, smiling wryly. “And Timothy, try not to get too carried away with the cleaning while I’m gone. Though I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job thus far.”

And without another word, Grayson threw himself out into the mysterious black space beyond and vanished, the door slamming shut behind him. The wheel automatically turned back to Coast City’s blue quarter. 

Damian scowled. He hated it when Grayson left like that. Only Grayson was able to access the black door, and he’d been using it more frequently in the passing months. Damian had tried to follow, but only the red, blue and green quarters appeared for him. He was afraid of what Grayson was doing on the other side of that door. He was afraid he was slowly losing the only family he had left.

“You two are brothers?”

Damian resisted the urge to jump. He’d momentarily forgotten that Timothy was there.

“He’s adopted,” Damian sniffed. “My father was his mentor. After Father...disappeared he became my guardian and I moved in here. It’s been just us-”

“Hey!” Jason growled.

“-and Jason,” Damian added with a huff, “ever since. And now you I suppose.”

“I’m sorry about your father, Damian,” Timothy said softly. “He must have been a great man to have taught someone as reputable as Grayson.”

“Dick,” Jason scoffed. 

“Pardon?” Timothy said, frowning at the fire demon.

“The jerk’s name is Dick,” Jason elaborated.

“His  _ name _ is  _ Richard _ Grayson,” Damian chimed in. “Why he insists on going by Dick I’ll never know.”

“Because Dick’s a dick,” Jason snickered. “You’re the only one who calls him Richard, Damian.”

“Because that is his name.” Damian scowled.

Timothy chuckled, turning away from them and went about straightening the downstairs. Damian glared one last time at Jason before hurrying to head the old man off so that all of his magic books and ingredients were at least put in an area where he could organize them properly later.

By the end of the day Timothy had pretty much cleaned every nook and cranny in the downstairs area. Damian helped Timothy make a bed on the sofa in the nook under the stairs so that the old man wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor or in a chair again.

The next morning Damian awoke to the smell of another breakfast cooking over Jason’s flames. How the old man was able to get Jason to do anything was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to complain about having hot meals. That alone made Timothy worth keeping around. Grayson hardly ever cooked anymore.

Before heading downstairs, Damian peeked into his “older brother’s” room. He wasn’t there.

“Did Richard come home last night?” Damian asked Jason as soon as Timothy had retreated into the kitchen area to serve up their breakfast.

“No,” Jason muttered. “I don’t know what Dickie is doing, or where he goes when he goes out the black portal, but whatever it is, it must be important. His trips are getting longer.”

Damian frowned, nodding grimly before joining Timothy for breakfast.

“Everything alright?” the old man asked.

“Everything is fine,” Damian huffed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim didn’t believe the boy for a moment. The kid looked worried about whatever it was he’d been talking to Jason about. Tim assumed it had something to do with Grayson. 

After breakfast, Tim helped Damian sort through his magic items, mostly putting things up on shelves that the boy couldn’t quite reach without a step stool, and rehung the strings of herbs. Once everything downstairs was in order Tim made his way towards the stairs. He almost dreaded what he’d find up there. Who knew how big this place really was. Considering how massive the castle had looked on the outside, the main downstairs area was actually really small in comparison.

“Wait!” Damian suddenly cried, hurrying to cut Tim off and blocked his way upstairs. “You can’t come up here.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at the boy. 

“Damian, if the upstairs is anything like what it was like down here, then I am most certainly coming up there. If I were you, I’d put away whatever you don’t want me to clean now before I get there.”

Damian glared, standing defiantly before him before turning on his heel.

“Tt! Fine. But save my room for last, alright? I can pick up after myself. I’m not a child.”

Tim chuckled as he watched the boy bolt up the stairs. His humor quickly evaporated, however, when he climbed the stairs and saw the state of the hallway. Everything - walls, stairs, floor, ceiling, doors - was coated in a thick coat of dust and cobwebs.

“What a mess,” Tim grumbled, stopping outside the first door he came to. It was in a peculiar spot on a landing halfway between the first and second stories. It was a bathroom and it nearly made Tim gag. It was even worse than the one he’d cleaned downstairs. That bathroom had only had a toilet and a sink, but judging by the amount of dust that had coated that bathroom, it had been forgotten and left unused because it was blocked off by piles of things. This bathroom was obviously the one Grayson and Damian used regularly.

It was large and luxurious with both a shower stall and an immense bath with clawed feet and a large mirror over the sink vanity. But the sight of it made Tim wince, the smells rising from the toilet and the dirty water in the bath were horrendous. The mirrors and every available surface were coated in various nameless substances. A very large shelf above the bathroom’s tub was crammed packed with various jars, boxes, tubes and bags which seemed to be the source for most of those substances.

“Honestly, how can those two live like this?” Tim groaned.

He really didn’t want to, but Tim grit his teeth and got started. After a while, Tim couldn’t stand the smells any longer and had to open a window. The window was gunked shut, but after a good shove, Tim managed to pry it open. The relief was instantaneous. After breathing in nice clean air, Tim was able to appreciate the view. The castle was moving! They were currently traveling along a mountain ridge high up above the Wastes. Down far below them there was a river, glittering in the late morning sunlight. Tim felt his breath catch over the majestic view.

“Amazing,” he breathed before hurrying out of the bathroom back out onto the mid-story landing to see the castle’s resident fire demon. “Jason! Jason! Are you moving the castle?”

“Of course I am!” Jason growled. “Who else could it be?”

“I’m thoroughly impressed,” Tim said, grinning at Jason over the banister. “Your magic’s first class. I really like you spark. I misjudged you completely.”

Jason’s flames spluttered, his green eyes wide and blinking in confusion.

“You think so?”

Tim’s grin widened and with a nod he hurried upstairs, but not before he heard Jason whoop and yell, “He likes my spark!  _ Finally!  _ Someone who appreciates what I do.”

Tim hurried past the bathroom he was halfway through cleaning and up to the second story, looking for a door that led outside. This was supposed to be a castle. Surely Grayson had a balcony or something to enjoy the view from, right?

As Tim reached the second story landing he heard Damian squawk, “Not yet! I’m not ready. Go away!” and his bedroom door slamming shut. 

Ignoring the boy, Tim finally found a door that led outside to a small platform. He gazed in awe at the view before him. Jason was moving the castle down into a green valley where there was a crystal clear lake nestled among the mountain's peaks. They must have been high up in the mountains, because there were clouds hovering mere meters above the lake’s surface.

After a moment Damian came out and joined him.

“It’s called Star Lake,” the boy informed him.

“It’s beautiful,” Tim murmured. 

The boy nodded in agreement, a soft barely-there smile curling at the corners of his lips before something caught his attention. He bent over the balcony railing they were leaning on and inched closer to a stick that was sticking up out from a part of the castle’s many open ports.

“Something's stuck in there.” 

Tim came closer and realized he recognized that stick. 

“Oh dear,” he fretted, reaching down to grab it. The wood vibrated in his grasp, pushing up into his hands. “Give me a hand, Damian.”

“...Sure,” Damian said, reaching over the help Tim wiggle the stick free. 

After a moment finagling with the damned thing they managed to pop it free and up.

“A scarecrow?” Damian frowned once he got a good look at it.

“Yup,” Tim sighed, smiling wryly at the strange thing. “I’ve been calling him Football Head. Somehow he always manages to get stuck upside down.”

Football Head swayed in the breeze for a moment before twitching and with a big jump, managed to hop along the castle’s side and up to the top where he bounced happily on an old gun turret. 

“He keeps following me everywhere,” Tim mused. “The odd creature seems to have taken a liking to me.”

“Are you sure you’re not some sort of mage or wizard, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously again, his gaze assessing. 

“Oh yes,” Tim said with a serious air before grinning down mischievously at the boy. “I’m the worst kind of wizard ever. The kind that cleans.”

Damian only scowled back before re-entering the castle to resume picking up his room. 

Tim took one last look out at the view before returning to his cleaning. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was another hour before Tim was satisfied with the state of the bathroom. The room was now spotless and not a spot of grim could be seen. Afterwards, Tim moved on the cleaning up the stairway and hall so that Damian would have plenty of time to finish sorting out his room. Tim could honestly say that the kid’s bedroom had been the tidiest and cleanest space in the entire castle. There was surprisingly little upstairs. Only the bathroom and two bedrooms - Damian’s and Grayson’s - which Tim didn’t touch. For such a big castle, the house parts were rather small. Tim thought that there would be more to it, but there just wasn’t. Damian and Jason had laughed when Tim inquired about it.

Apparently, before Grayson had built the moving castle a little less than five years ago, the house part that they were all residing in was the actual interior of the house in Coast City where Grayson had lived after finishing his initial apprenticeship under Wizard Wayne. The same Wizard Wayne who was the King’s former Court Magician and Damian’s father - who was apparently missing and  _ not _ dead as he had been rumored to be back home in Gotham. And wasn’t that a surprise? Tim had had no idea that he was now staying with such well connected magicians.

With no more rooms to clean in the house, that left the entire afternoon open and allowed time for doing laundry. Jason had settled the castle along the coast of Star Lake, so Tim and Damian got to enjoy the nice cool spring air outside. Football Head bounced around happily while Tim scrubbed clean the various clothes, sheets, towels and other various articles that needed washing. It was Damian’s idea to tether a line on one of the scarecrow’s arms to serve as a kind of clothes line. Football Head appeared delighted to help, vibrating as Tim tied the line and started pinning the wet clothes to it.

“Would you quit pulling?!” Damian snapped when the scarecrow got too enthusiastic and nearly tugged the other end of the line out of the boy’s hands. Tim clucked his tongue and gave Football Head a stern look while he pointedly held the line still so that he could hang a sheet over it. Once Tim had one load of the wash done, the line was full and had no room for the next load that Tim wanted to wash.

“...We could tether it to the castle turrets,” Damian suggested.

“But how on earth would we get the line up there?” Tim sighed, staring up at the castle.

Football Head solved that problem. The bewitched scarecrow bounce lightly up the side of the castle to the platform Tim and Damian had first viewed Star Lake from, the line of laundry flying behind him like a string of flags.

“Huh,” Damian said, eyebrows raised. “That thing might actually have a brain in there somewhere.”

Damian hurried inside and transferred the laundry line from Football Head’s arm to the balcony railing while Tim secured the other end to a rock on the lake’s shore. With that line taken care of, Tim and Damian moved on to wash the second load of laundry and repeated the process, this time leaving one end tethered to the castle and the other to Football Head’s arm.

As evening was approaching, Damian and Tim brought out one of the smaller tables and a couple of chairs so that they could have supper by the lake.

“He seems to like doing the laundry,” Damian commented, voice thick with amusement as the scarecrow bounced along the shore of the lake as far as the laundry line would allow him to go without allowing any part of the line to touch the ground. He seemed to be making a game of it.

“It’ll be dry in no time,” Tim agreed, pouring the tea.

“I wonder what he is,” Damian wondered, watching. “Jason doesn’t seem to mind him, so he could be some sort of demon, but I don’t know what sort of self-respecting demon would take the form of a scarecrow of all things.”

“Maybe,” Tim mused, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed thoroughly before speaking again. “But he led me here, so maybe he’s the good kind.”

Damian snorted at that, but didn’t say anything. He simply ate his dinner and alternated between watching the silly scarecrow, Tim, and the view they had of the lake as the sun set. The boy didn’t even say anything after he finished and took their plates back into the castle. Tim decided that he was going to enjoy the view a little longer and remained seated in his chair, not realizing that when Damian came back outside he was rounding up Football Head and began taking the laundry down.

Tim must have started to doze in his chair because when he woke up Damian was standing next to him and informing him that all of the laundry had been put away. Blinking in surprise, Tim looked behind him and saw Football Head swaying on one of the castle’s turrets unburdened by laundry lines which were noticeably absent.

“Thank you, Damian,” Tim said, smiling softly at the boy before looking back over the water. “I suppose we’d better be getting these chairs and table back inside, but when you’re old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery. It’s funny… I’ve never felt so at peace before.”

Damian stared at Tim in that way that Tim knew the boy was assessing him and processing what he’d said. Then the boy looked away.

“Tt! Let’s just get back inside the castle before you fall asleep again and catch a cold, old man.”

Tim chuckled before standing up with a groan. He patted the boy’s shoulder fondly and was quite surprised when he wasn’t brushed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have chapter 2! I hope you guys liked it. It'd be much appreciated if you could take the time to write a short comment to let me know how I'm doing.
> 
> I was asked what made me decide to write this story in a message on Tumblr, so here's my answer. It's kind of funny. I had been in my car just listening to a song (the opening) from the soundtrack of Howl's Moving Castle when the thought hit me of how funny it would be if the robins were cast as the characters. I could imagine that skywalking scene with Tim and Dick, and Jason being the fire demon, and Damian and a moody Markle. I like the idea so much that I decided to write it as soon as I got home and before I knew it, I had 15 pages written by the end of the night. XD If only my other stories could come to me that fast. Now that I've finished reading the book, even more ideas and twists for this story have flared up and I can't wait to write them. I can't say when I'll have chapter 3 up, but I do have half of it written and I can tell you it'll start from Dick's POV.
> 
> That said, how did everyone like the part of this chapter from Damian's? I hope it gave a little more insight to how his and Dick's backstory is in this fic. Out of all the robins I feel like Damian's the one I know the least about, so it's a little hard for me to nail down his character, even in this AU. He addresses Dick as Grayson in the narrative and for the most part whenever Tim's around, but does call him Richard on occasion when they're being brotherly. That's Damian's formal-habit-ness in action. Alfred did teach Damian proper etiquette before he died. (Yes, Alfred is dead, I am so sorry but I needed a reason for why Damian would be living with Dick in a dirty house) In this fic, Damian grew up with Bruce and Alfred and not Talia (I'll be getting to her later in the story), so that's the reason Damian isn't particularly standoffish with Tim and is only suspicious. This Damian's actually had a decent childhood, so his character is less violent and more childlike than what he's known for.
> 
> If you guys are interested in any particular scenes from the movie or the book that you'd really like to see in a particular character's POV, please feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to work it in. :)


	3. When Grayson Proves He’s a Man-child and Tim Has to Adult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are! Chapter 3! This is going up later than I thought. I've had this and most of chapter 4 written for weeks, but wasn't feeling too inspired to fix it up and post it until recently. Thank you drowning_in_otps and Pinklunarflower for your lovely comments and getting me into the mood to write and post more of this story! I hope you enjoy it.

Dick looked down at the scene below him grimly. The entire horizon spanning several kilometers before him was ablaze while the troops from the al Ghul Empire and the Dicomacs Kingdom waged war on land, on the sea and in the sky. Small homes, villages and towns that were caught in the middle of the battle fields were razed to the ground by normal foot soldiers and dueling magicians alike. Things were getting much worse. He wished, not for the first time, that Bruce wasn’t missing. He was good friends with King Clark, and a respected… something (Ally? Rival? Friend? Enemy?) to Emperor Ra’s al Ghul. Without him… there was only chaos. No one to warn off Ra’s when he felt like expanding his borders into the west and no one to council Clark on how to deal with the Eastern Emperor’s unique politics. 

Dick’s expression darkened when he spotted the fresh wave of airships ahead of him getting ready to meet each other head on, ready to rain fire and death down on those fighting below regardless of whose side they were on. It was madness and so much needless death. Dick was only grateful that this stretch of the countryside had been evacuated weeks ago thanks to his warnings. Being a former protege of Wizard Wayne still carried some weight out east it seemed. 

Before he could fly closer to the airships to see if he could sabotage them, one of the al Ghul ships opened its bay doors and a flock of flying lizard creatures flew right for him. Dick’s lips curled down in distaste. They were Witches and Wizards who’d lost themselves to their corruptions and were no longer human. Magicians that had been so hungry for an edge to boost their magics that they’d made deals with demons and lost their hearts and souls. Not that Dick was one to judge. He himself wasn’t completely in human form at the moment either, but he at least retained his humanity. Right now he was the Nightwing, a great grey-blue bird with a human head. He was commander of the skies and he was going to make sure that these hack monsters knew that. 

He soared on an updraft to meet the corrupted magicians. He was much stronger than they were, because his humanity was still intact and in touch with his core magic. He wasn’t a mindless raw force to be commanded by others like they were. He was free and his own agent.

Dick shot right through the center of the flock, wings slashing out to cut those beasts down. Some fell, their wings in shreds, while others gave chase, climbing high into the dark sky above them. Dick dove and swerved, knocking some down as he flew circles around them. He was a bird. He was born to fly. Bruce had even said so the first time Dick had tried transformation magic and took to the skies. Even the fearsome Bat of Dicomacs - the Batman - knew that part of Dick belonged in the sky.

More of those twisted witches and wizards were taking to the air from other airships on both sides, however, and Dick knew that while he was good, was their superior in the sky, he was not strong enough to fight off their numbers. Gods above there were so many of them! At this rate there would be no magic users left in all the kingdoms. 

Dick climbed the skies one more time above the swarm of mutated creatures and cast the spell that would teleport him far away and allow him to return to his castle via the black portal. As the door opened for him, Dick dropped the transformation spell. Unfortunately, a lot of the Nightwing’s bird features remained and blended with his human ones. His head was covered in feathers instead of hair, his shirt still resembled his bird body and wings, and his shoes were clawed.

Too exhausted to care at the moment, Dick entered the castle anyway, dropping heavily down into the chair in front of the Jason’s fire and kicked his feet up onto the hearth.

“Jeez,” Jason hissed softly. “Are you ok? You reek of burnt flesh and steel.”

Dick flinched. He could still smell the ash and fire and gunpowder from the battlefields on his body too. With a groan he focused on pulling himself back together. It was supposed to be a smooth and easy process, but as of late it was getting harder and harder to switch back to Dick Grayson after transforming into the Nightwing.

“You shouldn’t be flying around like that,” Jason said sadly. “One day you won’t be able to change yourself back.”

Dick leveled an irritated glare Jason’s way, but the fire demon was no longer looking at him. Instead, the tongues of Jason’s fiery appendages were reaching off to the side where a couple of logs sat at the edge of the hearth. He grabbed one and settled it into his fire box, a delighted look flickering across his features.

“Isn’t this great? Timothy did this for me.”

Dick smiled before forcing himself to sit up, grunting at the effort he had to put into the action.

“This war is terrible. They’ve bombed the southern coast to the eastern border. It’s only flames now.”

Jason’s expression turned grim.

“I hate the fire in gunpowders. They have no manners.”

Dick chuffed, sinking forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“My own kind attacked me today,” he informed Jason sadly.

“You mean the Witch of the Waste?” Jason asked, sparks flicking up into the chimney. 

“No,” Dick sighed sadly. “Some hack wizards who’ve turned themselves into monsters for their king.”

“Those magicians are gonna regret doing that when they realize that they can’t regain their human forms,” Jason scoffed. “Bunch of morons.”

“After the war they won’t even remember that they ever were human. It’s already too late for many of the ones I fought tonight.”

“Hey,” Jason said, his eyes narrowing into thin lines of green flames, “aren’t you supposed to report to the king yourself?”

“Yes, well…” Dick hummed, getting to his feet. “I’m tired. Make some hot water for my bath.”

“What?!” Jason cried softly so as not to wake either of the castle’s two other residents. “Not again!”

“You’re the one that said I stink,” Dick grinned as he moved towards the curtain that sectioned off the nook under the stairs from the main room. It was obvious that this had been done so that Tim could have his own separate space since Damian had taken the only other bedroom in the house when he’d moved in. Dick made a mental note to create a room for Tim the next chance he got. Sleeping on the sofa couldn’t be doing the man’s back any good.

Dick pulled aside the curtain a bit and peered down at the person sleeping there. He smiled softly at the sight of the young man he’d met in Gotham. Funny how some curses worked. Sometimes when Tim was asleep he returned to his real age. It was a cruel twist to the Witch’s spell. By allowing a small fraction of the man’s youth be to returned to him while he slept, the spell drew out the older self’s life expectancy to lengthen the subject’s suffering at the grip of old age. Dick felt guilty that the young man had been cursed on his account. The Witch of the Waste had a lot to answer for. 

He was tempted to reach out and brush back the hair that fell in Tim’s face while he slept. Dick was man enough to admit that he was prideful of his own beauty, but he was also secure enough in his masculinity to admit that Tim had some of the most delicate and feminine features he’d ever seen on another man. With his slim build and small stature, it was so easy to mistake Tim for a young woman when wrapped up in his blanket. 

He also looked heartbreakingly familiar and he wasn’t just thinking about coming across the younger man a few days ago during Gotham’s May Day festivities. That face was so familiar and everytime Dick felt he was on the cusp of remembering, the memory slipped away. It was like a dream. A dream Dick couldn’t recall no matter how many times he’d woken up from it. But he knew that Tim was important. 

Not wanting to accidentally wake him, Dick slipped away, allowing the curtain to fall back over the nook. He ignored Jason’s curious gaze and headed upstairs. He really needed a shower to get rid of the grit and stench of the battlefield.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim was awakened by the sound of the water pipes rattling in the walls. He sat straight up in surprise and parted the curtain to his little nook under the stairs to see Jason.

“Is that Grayson?” he asked.

“Yup,” Jason huffed, tiny flaming fingers reaching out and grabbing the last log that Tim had left out the night before. “He’s wasting all my hot water again.”

Tim shut his curtain to hide his smile as he listened to Jason growl and curse Grayson for all the things he had to do for him.

After Tim got dressed for the day he headed to his own little bathroom unit and washed up. Shaving was such a pain. He’d been a late bloomer when it came to puberty (he liked to blame that on Stephanie and Cassandra and all the girl clothes they’d stuffed him into over the years) and had barely started to grow more than a light stubble on his chin before the Witch had cursed Tim. Now he had no problem growing facial hair and had all these wrinkles to work around. The hair on his chin was hard and bristly too and Tim still wasn’t used to it. He cut himself at least twice every time he shaved.

Once he was done, Tim went to the kitchen to figure out what he should make for breakfast. The cupboards were looking rather bare, however, so Tim decided that this morning was as good as any to go shopping. He prepared a light meal of jam and bread for himself and Damian who appeared just in time to eat. The boy actually looked disappointed to see such a simple meal, but when Tim informed him that they would be going shopping afterwards and promised to cook him something warm and hearty for lunch, the boy nodded in understanding. After they ate, Damian pulled out his magic cloak that disguised him as an old man and Tim grabbed his walking stick and a basket to carry their purchases in. Damian carried the purse filled with money earned from selling spells.

It was a beautiful morning and Tim enjoyed taking in a deep breath of the clean, salty sea air. It felt invigorating and seemed to sooth his aching joints. Damian led the way to the food market which was a few blocks away down the hill by the docks.

“It’s certainly a lovely morning,” Tim said, smiling brightly as he looked up at the clear blue sky that seemed to blend with the ocean as they met far out over the horizon. Gotham skies were never this bright for some reason. There was always something that made it so grey. Perhaps that was because it was nestled in a valley among the mountains and before the moors to the south. “The sky is so blue! And I’ve never seen the ocean before. It’s beautiful with it’s sparking water.”

Damian snorted. “It always looks like that.”

“Well excuse me for being a Gothamite,” Tim muttered, “where there are no clear blue skies or oceans.”

“You poor simpleton,” Damian snickered. 

“Oh hush you,” Tim huffed, shoving lightly at the boy’s hooded head.

“Watch it, old man,” Damian scowled, but the light in his eyes was bright and danced, showing Tim that he wasn’t really mad and was actually enjoying himself.

“Brat,” Tim said fondly as they finally arrived at the busy morning market. Tim made for the vegetable stand first. He picked a few things that were running low in the kitchen and since there had been none when he’d arrived, Tim decided to look at potatoes. He sifted through the selection and put the ones he wanted into his basket.

“I hate potatoes,” Damian grunted behind him.

“Too bad. Pay up,” Tim said, smirking back at the boy before turning back to the seller to thank him.

Next was the fish merchant and Damian was just as grouchy about fish as he had been about the potatoes. Just as Tim was making his selection, however, a few men came running down the docks, a wave of conversation following in their wake.

“It’s one of the fleet’s ships!” one of them was saying.

“Is that smoke?” the other cried in alarm.

Tim and Damian looked up and watched as many of the other fisherman gathered and ran further down the docks where one of the kingdom’s battleships was slowly pulling into the harbor.

“Looks like there’s been a serious battle,” one of the men from a few stalls down said to the fish merchant as he passed by.

“What happened?” the fish merchant called after, but got no reply. He turned to Tim and said, “Sorry, friend, but we’re closed,” before running off to join the growing crowd.

A few of the smaller and faster motor boats disembarked and sailed towards the smoaking ship. Tim and Damian joined the crowd, gaping at the state of the battleship. Tim was surprised that the thing was still running. He could just make out the shapes of the ship’s sailors milling about on deck and jumping into the ocean to be picked up by the fishing boats that came to aid them.

“Come on, Timothy,” Damian urged. “Let’s go get a better look.”

“No, I’ve seen enough,” Tim said weakly, feeling ill all of a sudden. “Please, let’s go home.”

Damian glared back at him, but Tim was soon distracted by a movement in the shadows further down in the crowd. It was a shadow man!

“Damian,” Tim hissed, averting his gaze and faced the ruined ship. “The Witch’s shadow men are here.”

“What?!” Damian cried, craning his head to see.

“Don’t move,” Tim chastised, gripping the boy’s shoulder. “One is only a few meters away.”

Damian growled, but did as Tim said. Tim watched the shadow man as it moved through the crowd, seemingly unnoticed in spite of its dark and featureless face.

“...It’s gone,” Tim sighed when the shadow man was no longer visible. “How do people not notice those terrible things?”

Damian looked like he was about to answer when a whistling sound suddenly began to scream through the air. They looked up just in time to see three bombs of some kind land in the harbor’s waters with a loud boom and bright explosions of light that threw up large pillars of water. The people of Coast City began to panic, but the few that weren’t fleeing for their lives were pointing up at the skies at a retreating enemy airship. At some point in all the chaos, Damian’s hood had fallen back revealing his real face. His eyes were wide and riveted on the airship. Tim looked up too in time to see a stream of papers come flying out of the back of it.

At this point Tim had had enough and hurried out of the market, tugging Damian behind him until they were clear of the worst of the crowd. The papers that had come out of the enemy airship were flyers of some kind, but Tim didn’t bother to grab one and find out what they said. Nothing good, he was sure. He didn’t stop his mad dash up the hill until they were both safely back inside the castle. Tim sank against the nearest wall, breathing heavily.

“Are you alright, Timothy?” Damian asked, staring up at him worriedly.

Tim nodded wordlessly, moving to hobble up the stairs to the main floor. He was leaning heavily on his cane.

“I’ll be fine,” he gasped after reaching the top step. “A glass of water would be nice, though.”

“Of course,” Damian agreed, hurrying off for the kitchen with their basket of vegetables.

Tim sat down heavily in the chair before Jason’s fire, trying to regain his breath. Just as he got it under control there was a loud, heavy thud that shook the house and a piercing wail of dismay came from upstairs. Tim jumped to his feet in alarm and backed away a few steps. A moment later Grayson came tearing down the stairs from the bathroom in nothing but a towel sporting bright orange hair.

“Tim! What did you do to the bathroom shelves?! You’ve sabotaged me. Look! Look what you’ve done to my hair! LOOK!!!” he bellowed.

Jason cracked up, laughing so hard that different colored sparks flew up the chimney. Damian was just barely keeping a straight face. Tim, however, bent nervously over Grayson’s shockingly bright orange hair.

“...What a pretty color,” Tim found himself saying. 

“ _ Pretty?! _ ” Grayson shrieked. “You would think it was pretty, wouldn’t you?! Look at it! It’s ginger! You completely mixed up everything on the shelves in the bathroom and ruined the spells.” 

“I didn’t mix anything up,” Tim said calmly, ignoring the way Damian and Jason couldn’t seem to stop laughing and snickering over the matter. Seriously, those two. They weren’t helping. “I just straightened things up a bit, that’s all.

“Cleaning, cleaning, always cleaning!” Grayson moaned. “I specifically requested that you not get too carried away. Now I shall have to hide until it’s grown out!” He spread his arms out passionately. “Despair! Anguish! Horror! I am hideous!”

With a dramatic sob he fell back into the chair by the fire and buried his face in his hands.

“It’s not that bad,” Tim said, trying to placate the depressed wizard as he sobbed into his hands.

Grayson paid him no mind and continued to cry, hands sliding up to clutch angrily at his hair. A second later the vibrant orange faded to a magenta color before turning completely black like Damian’s hair. Well, the two would certainly look like brothers now.

“You should look at it now,” Tim said. “Its shade is even better.”

“I give up,” Grayson moaned pitifully. “I see no point in living if I can’t be beautiful.”

“Oh please,” Jason scoffed and Damian tisked, but soon fell silent as the shadows in the house seemed to deepen and expand. The room dimmed. Huge, cloudy, human-looking shapes seeped out of the shadows and crawled up the walls and along the floor, howling in horror and in despairing brays, screaming in pain and terror. The house itself seem to twist and shift.

“Dick, stop it! Cut it out!” Jason cried, actually sounding worried.

“He’s calling on the spirits of Darkness,” Damian hissed, backing into Tim, curling close to his side, a fearful tremor in his voice. “I saw him do this once before when a girl dumped him.”

Tim shivered, not liking this one bit. He gently pulled away from Damian and carefully approached Grayson.

“Now, Grayson… Richard,” Tim said soothingly, placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re alright. We’ll just dye your hair back again. Ok? So just stop this.”

No reaction.

Tim was going to speak again when the skin under his hand suddenly began to ooze large amounts of green slime. It covered Grayson completely. It draped his head and shoulders in sticky dollops, trickling in great globs down his back and arms and legs, forming a sticky puddle on the floor around the stool. It smelled vile.

Tim jerked back in alarm and horror at the man before him. The shadows began to writhe and the howls and moans got even louder. It was unbearable and Tim couldn’t stand it. He grabbed Damian’s hand and pulled him towards the door, hurrying them back out into Coast City’s streets. 

“We’re just going to leave him alone in that state?” Damian cried, but made no move to go back inside.

“Best let this thing run its course,” Tim huffed.

The noise was more faded outside, but it still drew the attention of their neighbors.

“Is something wrong with the Wizard, good sirs?” a lady asked, her child hiding behind her skirts.

“He’s just a little unhappy today,” Tim said to placate the concerned crowd.

A few minutes later the noise died away and everything was silent. People went back to their businesses.

“Come on,” Tim sighed, “I think it’s over now.”

Damian nodded.

The moment they opened the door they could hear Jason crying out in alarm.

“Cut it out, Dick! Stop it! I’m going to go out if you don’t stop. Tim! Damian! Someone do something and save me from this dumbass!”

Damian and Tim raced up the stairs. Grayson had slumped forward onto the hearth and was now oozing slime into the fireplace.

Tim sighed, stomping over to Grayson. He’d had enough of this foolishness. Gods above! It was just hair for pity’s sake.

“Stop it!” Tim commanded. “You’re being overly dramatic and behaving like a child!”

Grayson remained unresponsive.

“What should we do? Is he dead?” Damian asked worriedly.

“He’s fine,” Tim snorted. “He’s just throwing a tantrum. If it weren’t for Jason, he could lie there all day for all I care. - _ sigh _ \- Come and give me a hand, Damian.”

Together Damian and Tim pushed Grayson away from the fireplace. They scraped back as much of the slime from Jason as possible for the moment and fed him a few more logs. Tim would have to properly clean out of fireplace later. Once they were sure that Jason was in no danger of being slimed they shoved Dick and his chair over to the stairs. Tim then hefted the man upright and slung a slimy arm over his shoulders.

“Damian, go upstairs and get the hot water running.”

The boy nodded and dashed up the stairs.

Tim then jostled Grayson a bit.

“Come on, you overgrown man-child,” he huffed. “You can still walk.”

They were halfway up to the landing when there was a loud splat. Tim looked down the stairs and saw that Grayson’s towel had fallen off his slimy ass.

“...I’m not getting paid enough for this shit,” Tim grumbled, dragging the naked-assed wizard up the last of the stairs.

“You’re not getting paid at all,” Jason chimed in cheerfully.

“Watch it!” Tim barked. “I can still have you slimed.”

He wouldn’t. Not really. But it got the fire demon to shut up.

Tim finally managed to haul the useless man up and into the bathroom and dragged him into the shower. He just didn’t have the strength to get him into the tub.

“Do what you can to get him cleaned up,” Tim gasped.

Damian only nodded, grabbing a scrub brush and started to scrub the slime off the still unresponsive man.

Tim backed out of the bathroom and stared at the trails of slime that wound down the stairs and around the living room.

“Now I’m going to have to mop again,” Tim grumbled.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It took nearly a whole two hours to clean up the slime mess and get Grayson cleaned up and in bed. It took both Tim and Damian’s combined efforts to get the man up the remaining stairs to the second story and then down the hall to the bedroom on the end.

Tim was actually surprised at the state of Grayson’s room. He had expected dust and dirt and grime everywhere with piles of dirty clothes all over the floor in a room in complete disarray. Instead, Grayson’s room was remarkably tidy. It was horribly cluttered for sure - not an inch of the walls or ceiling were bare, and there were certainly haphazardly stacked piles of books and things taking up most of the floor space, but it was clean. The ridiculously large and plush looking bed was even made and all of Grayson’s clothes were either hanging or folded in a closet!

It was an effort getting the man into the monstrous bed, but somehow Tim and Damian managed after getting a night shirt on him. They didn’t bother with slacks and just tucked him into the bed. Once Grayson was taken care of, Damian headed down the hall to his own room at the top of the stairs.

Tim fussed around for a bit, trying to tidy the piles of things and figure out what all Grayson had in there, but soon went back downstairs to let Jason know that their resident idiot man-child wizard was resting. Then he started to make lunch, cutting up a couple of the potatoes he’d bought that morning and cooked them with chopped onion, peppers, minced mushrooms, and a couple eggs to make a scramble. The smell of food brought Damian back downstairs where he fiddled with putting together a few spells for customers until Tim was finished. They ate and kept quietly to themselves for a while until Tim decided it was time to go check up on Grayson. He warmed some milk over Jason’s flames and brought up the leftovers of the scramble he’d made.

Tim could tell that Grayson was awake, but was pretending to sleep when he entered the room.

“Grayson, I’ve brought you some lunch.”

No response.

Tim sighed. “I’ll just leave it here then,” he said, putting it on a cleared space on the man’s bedside table. “Do try to drink and eat before everything gets cold. It tastes better warm.”

“...Timothy… Wait. Please don’t leave.”

Tim paused, his hand on the doorknob. He looked over at the man and met his blue-gray gaze. Wordlessly, Tim made his way back over to the large bed.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Grayson shook his head.

Tim sighed quietly and after realizing that there was no chair to sit on, Tim settled himself on the edge of the bed and waited.

A spinning mobile above the bed caught Tim’s attention. Especially when it suddenly stopped moving and a gemstone hanging from it started to light up, flashing rapidly.

“The Witch of the Waste is trying to find my castle,” Grayson told him, eyes looking up at the mobile that started to move again.

“Now that you mention it, I did see some of her shadow men this morning down in the dockside market while Damian and I were out shopping.”

“I’m such a coward,” Grayson lamented, closing his eyes and turning his face away from Tim. “All I do is hide. All this junk is just sorcery to keep her and everyone else away. I can’t stand how scared I am.”

“Would you mind telling me why the Witch of the Waste is after you?” Tim asked.

Grayson sighed and looked back up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the various sigils, markings and other things etched up there.

“...She used to be a great witch from the East,” Grayson explained. “Back before his Majesty  Clark Kent was King, Ra’s al Ghul and his people were one of this kingdom’s most hated enemies. The Witch… is Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter, though few knew and even fewer remember that. Back then she was also his greatest general. She led many battles onto Dicomacs soil. To our people, she was a terror. A nightmare that came up out of the Waste, which is why they call her the Witch of the Waste. But one day nearly twenty years ago all of that stopped and the Eastern Armies ceased trying to invade and she disappeared, rumored to have returned to the Wastes where she was believed by many to dwell.”

“What happened?” Tim asked.

“...She fell in love,” Grayson said, smiling softly, “with a young man who’d wandered into the Wastes on his way East. He was lost both physically and spiritually. She brought him home with her to see her father and there in the great Eastern Empire’s palace, the man learned a great many things about magic and sorcery over the years he spent there. He too fell in love with the Witch and married her. They eloped, fleeing Ra’s and his lands and returned to Dicomacs where they set up a life for themselves in the man’s family home and eventually had a child.”

“If they are so happy, why is she back to her wicked ways and is hunting you down?” Tim asked.

“...There was a complication with the birth of their child,” Grayson said. “He was born weak and sickly and they feared he would not live through his first day. The Witch… returned to Ra’s and made a contract with a demon. A demon that gave the Witch the power she desired to save her child, but in exchange, the Witch was no longer permitted to return to her family’s home. She could no longer be with her beloved husband or see their child. She was also banished from her father’s land. But because she was no longer allowed to return to her family due to the terms and conditions of her demon’s contract, she disappeared again and hid in the Wastes alone and bitter and let her feelings fester.”

“That’s awful,” Tim gasped, feeling sorry for the Witch.

“It gets worse,” Grayson muttered. “Her husband… was Bruce Wayne and Damian is their son.”

Tim was floored. Damian… was the son of the Witch of the Waste?

“...Does he know?” Tim asked.

“...No,” Grayson admitted. “Bruce… Wizard Wayne didn’t want him trying to seek her out. He didn’t want his son to fall prey to the demon that still has her under contract, or worse, to fall into his grandfather’s hands.”

“But why is she after you?” Tim asked.

“The Witch… thinks that her beloved husband is dead. She doesn’t know he’s missing. Or, rather, refuses to believe that he could still be alive.”

“But… Didn’t Wizard Wayne leave to confront her by order of the King?” Tim asked.

“He did… But according to Barbara… Madam Gordon, who back then was Apprentice Gordon, it wasn’t the Witch that they did battle with. It was the demon who holds the Witch’s contract. The one they call The Joker. She’s the one that claims that the demon killed Bruce. She’s the one that the Witch believes because Barbara was the apprentice that the Joker crippled. She was there with Bruce when he disappeared.”

“But if Madam Gordon claims that Wizard Wayne is dead… what makes you so sure that he’s still alive? That he’s only mysteriously vanished?” Tim asked.

“Admittedly, we all believed him to be dead in the beginning… because there was no body,” Grayson said softly. “But even if the Joker had completely destroyed Bruce, had blown him up so badly that his remains had become ash that scattered to the four corners of the world, there would still have been some sort of trace evidence. Some sort of magical backlash or fallout. But many of Bruce’s old spells have remained intact. They didn’t break down and die out over the years without his magics to sustain them. They’re still active, meaning that some aspect of Bruce is still alive.”

“Makes sense. But that still doesn’t tell me why the Witch is after you,” Tim sighed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Grayson huffed. “It’s because I have Damian. Her contract prevented her from returning to her husband’s home. To Bruce’s. To Wayne Manor in Metropolis. But now Damian is with me, in neutral territory. If she can find me, she can reclaim Damian as her own.”

“Would it really be that bad to let her see her son?” Tim asked.

“It could prove to be catastrophic,” Grayson said grimly. “She could kill him.”

“But he’s her son!” Tim exclaimed.

“Yes, but she’s been corrupted over the years by that demon,” Grayson explained patiently. “She’s grown to despise him. It’s because of Damian’s existence that she made that deal. That she was forced to stay away from the man she loved. Was the reason she is bound to a demon that brought Bruce to the Wastes to fight and ultimately parish. She blames him for everything.”

Tim’s stomach twisted. Poor Damian.

“I can’t keep running from her for much longer though. She’s bound to catch up to me now that the King’s ordered me to report to him as both Robin and Nightwing. The appearance of her servants in Coast City’s harbor is proof enough that she’s closing in.”

“Just how many aliases do you have, Grayson?” Tim asked.

“Please, call me Dick,” Grayson said, smiling softly at him. “And I use as many as I need to keep my freedom.”

“I don’t suppose that you could refuse the King’s invitation?”

Grayson huffed. “See that?” he asked, pointed to a paper pinned above his headboard to a dart board by darts, a knife and a pair of sewing scissors. “That is the oath I took at the Sorcery Academy under Wizard Wayne’s tutelage. I have to report to the palace whenever summoned.”

Tim stared at the document for a while before speaking up again.

“You know, Gray...Dick. I think you should see the King.”

“What?” Grayson gasped, staring at Tim as if he’d grown a second head.

“Give him a piece of your mind,” Tim said with a grin. “Tell him to stop this pointless war and that you refuse to take part.”

Grayson sighed, rolling his eyes. “You obviously don’t know what these people are like.”

“But he’s our king,” Tim protested. “He should want to hear what all of his citizens have to say. A king should only think of what is best for his people.”

Dick remained silent for a moment before bolting upright with an excited gasp.

“I’ve got it! You can go in my place, Tim!”

“Huh?” Tim gaped, staring dumbfoundedly at the manic grin on Grayson’s face.

“Pretend you’re Nightwing’s mother and that your son is such a cowardly wizard, an idle good-for-nothing, that he’s too afraid to show his face. Maybe then Madam Gordon will finally give up on me.”

“Excuse you,” Tim cried, jabbing a finger in Grayson… Dick’s chest. Jason was right. The man was a dick, so Tim might was well call him that. He had permission to do so now anyway. “Don’t you mean that I should go in as your  _ father? _ Do I look like a woman to you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Dick asked, glancing meaningfully at the plate with the now cold milk and potato egg scramble. 

“You!” Tim growled, waggling a finger in Dick’s face. “Now see here-!”

“Oh come on!” Dick laughed. “I can cast some spells to make you look more female. It’s for your own protection and it would make a more realistic case to the King. No self respecting father would admit that his flesh and blood is a good-for-nothing. That shames him and his family. Mothers have no such problems laying out all of their children’s flaws if that means that they can keep them safe and out of trouble in war times.”

“Are you for real?!” Tim cried. Why did people always want to stuff him in a dress?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? I'm mixing more of the book in here and starting to deviate from the movie's plot. 
> 
> What do you guys think of Talia's story? It took me a while to get it to a point that I was happy with it. It's allowed me to hint at things to come and next chapter we'll get to see Barbara. ;) So there's that to look forward to. I'm excited about the next chapter because this marks the halfway part of the movie, but it's probably going to be the last chapter that I really stick close to the movie's plot and more deviations towards the book are going to take place and get a whole lot more original. Also, I don't mind hinting, something more's going to happen to Tim and I'm both excited and nervous as to your guys' reactions. Hopefully I'll be able to post Chapter 4 soon. I've got 2/3rds of it written, but we'll see. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of the story thus far and let me know if there's anything you guys would like to see either from the movie or book or even an idea you'd like to see. I like prompts. :)


	4. In Which Tim Becomes a Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow is this chapter over due. It's been sitting in my files for a couple of months now, so here it finally is!
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Tim pursed his lips as he examined his reflection in the bathroom on the first floor. How on earth did he get himself into these messes? He was wearing a blue silk gown and low heeled calf-skin boots on his knobby feet. With a few spells cast by Dick Tim no longer had poorly shaven stubble on his face and his white-grey hair was longer and more silvery in color. What irritated him most though, was the fact that those were the only notable differences in his physical appearance. Just a dash of make-up and he was completely passable as a woman. Even as an old man, it seemed, Tim still retained his more feminine features.

“Do I want to know why you had a woman’s dress readily available, Dick?” Tim growled as he hobbled out of the bathroom.

Jason snickered and Damian sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to, Timothy,” the boy huffed as he eyed Tim’s appearance critically. “...Richard, he’s lacking… a bosom.”

“He’s fine,” Dick said dismissively, looking ridiculous in fuzzy pink slippers and wrapped up in one of the blankets from his bed. It was the most disheveled Tim had ever seen the vain wizard look. “He’s such a tiny little thing that you wouldn’t expect to see a big rack on him in the first place. Besides, I can’t cast any spells that alter Tim’s physical appearance. A little hair-be-gone potion is enough to get rid of the facial hair and a little hair lengthening spell are about all I can do. Not that much needed to be done in the first place. I bet you were quite a pretty thing in your youth, Timmy.”

Tim glowered at Dick again before grabbing his walking cane from Damian and stomping towards the door, hating the delicate little clicking noise his heels made as he crossed the hardwood floors to the door.

“Take care of things while I’m gone, Damian,” him growled. “You’re the only one I trust to be responsible around here.”

“Hey!” came indignant cries from Jason and Dick as Tim turned the knob to the red quarter that would take him to Metropolis.

“Wait!” Dick cried before suddenly appearing behind Tim.

Tim looked up at the wizard, frowning, only to stare in bewilderment as Dick took his right hand and slipped a silver ring with a red gem onto his ring finger.

“This charm will guarantee your safe return,” Dick said, smiling softly at Tim. “And don’t you worry. I’m going to be following you in disguise. Now off you go!”

Dick opened the door for him and gently nudged him outside.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to work?” Tim muttered to himself as he stared down at the ring and eyed the skirts of his dress billowing gently around him in the breeze. With a sigh, Tim decided that he might as well get the whole affair over and done with. He straightened his spine and strolled down the street with a confidence that came after years of having to pose as a girl. The skirts and draft didn’t even bother him. And wasn’t that sad? When had he become so used to wearing women’s clothes that he was actually comfortable in them?

After Tim had gone a few blocks and drew nearer to the palace Tim began to glance around, trying to figure out what Dick had disguised himself as. There was a large flock of crows perched along the ledges of the many apartments and shops that he passed, but Tim didn’t suppose that Dick would disguise himself as one. There were white pigeons flying about in the Royal City Square around the various statues of Dicomacs’ various royal and noble figures, but surely Dick would pick a much more dramatic disguise. He was too flamboyant to choose such simple birds. But when a soldier flew by in a two-seater skyplane with a giggling woman sitting behind him, Tim found he wouldn’t be surprised if Dick picked something like that.

The Royal Palace was a lot further than Tim had originally suspected and he was growing quite tired by the time he passed through the arch that lead to the final square he needed to pass through. When Tim was halfway through the square, Tim heard a soft panting noise and looked down, seeing that he’d acquired a companion. Keeping pace by his side was a large black great dane, a truly noble looking beast even though its tongue was hanging out the side of its mouth with his tail wagging slightly behind it.

Tim wasn’t quite sure what to make of the beast at first, but it appeared docile and happy as it trotted along beside him.

“...Dick?” Tim whisper softly. “Don’t tell me you disguised yourself as a dog.”

The great dane looked up at him and gave a sharp bark, bumping its head against Tim’s thigh before resuming its easy lope beside him.

“You may be big,” Tim hissed out of the corner of his mouth, “but couldn’t you think of something a bit more useful? Do you know how hard and exhausting it is when you’re old?”

Tim’s focus had been on the dog, so he hadn’t noticed the carrier coming up beside him until he spotted the two shadow men carrying it.

“Well look who’s here,” a woman’s voice mused before the carrier’s curtain was moved aside to reveal the Witch of the Waste. Her shadow men slowed their pace to keep even with Tim’s stride. “How nice to see you. I never forget a face, particularly if I’ve made it myself. Though I can see that you’ve made some minor changes of your own. What a funny thing you are. Did you do yourself up like that, or did Richard? I suspect the later. He has always been fond of beautiful women and you don’t make a half bad one even in your old age. How is that lad doing by the way?”

Tim huffed, working his anger at the Witch into his tone as he made up a reason for visiting the palace. “He’s completely juvenile and works me to the bone as his housekeeper.”

“How delightful,” the Witch chuckled, her voice actually pleasant sounding. “So tell me, what business do you have here at the palace?”

“I’m job hunting,” Tim said stiffly. “I’m sick of working for Grayson. And yourself?”

“I received a royal invitation,” the Witch said smugly. “That idiot King and little Miss Gordon finally realize that they need my power.”

“If you’re so great, why don’t you break the spell you put on me?” Tim asked, unable to keep some of the venom out of his tone.

“I’m sorry, dear,” the Witch smirked. “My gift lies in casting spells, not breaking them. But I’ll tell you what? I won’t leave you without a little parting gift. Consider it my apology.”

Before Tim could protest or back away, the witch flicked her hand in Tim’s face, blinding him momentarily with a flash of light.

“There,” the Witch said smugly. “I may not be able to break your spell, but I can cast another that’ll alter it. Do take care, darling.”

Tim shuddered, watching the Witch’s carrier pull on ahead and approach the palace steps. Tim was almost afraid to find out what the witch had done to him this time. But upon looking down at his hands he found that he was still old, so that hadn’t changed. Frowning, Tim looked down at his dress. Nothing new there. If anything, it fit better, clinging and wrapping around his slim figure, even around his… oh shit. Tim couldn’t resist reaching up and patting at his chest. His suddenly ample chest. Yup. Those were real. He could feel them. He also realized that he felt distinctly… different down below.

“And this day just keeps getting better and better,” Tim growled.

The dog at his...her side whined.

“Well you were no help,” Tim snapped. “You’re huge! You could have at least tried to bite her hand before she cast another spell. Damn! Now I’ll have to make another bargain with Jason to get this spell removed too.”

The big dog whined again and nuzzled Tim’s hand. Tim huffed, but found that she couldn’t stay mad at the beast when it was giving her puppy eyes. They resumed their journey to the palace without further comment. Up ahead, Tim noticed that something was going on with the Witch’s carrier. They had reached the main steps, but the shadow men were fading into smoke.

“Sorry, Madam!” One of the guards called out. “Vehicles are prohibited beyond this point! Please continue on foot.”

Tim smirked as the Witch made a big fuss about being forced to climb all those stairs as she got out of the carrier.

“Come on, Dick,” Tim whispered. “We can do this. Just act natural and pay her no mind.”

The dog gave another sharp bark before they reached the stairs. Tim was surprised that they were catching up with the Witch. They were only a quarter of the way up the stairs when Tim and the dog began to pass her. She didn’t look well. Of course, halfway up Tim wasn’t feeling so good either. Her joints ached horribly and she found she needed to sit down on the steps and catch her breath. The monster dog whined and plopped down next to her. They both watched the Witch struggle below them. It was then Tim realized just how old the Witch must have been despite her youthful appearance. She was doing worse than Tim was, and Tim figured that physically she had to be pushing at least 60.

“Why don’t you just give up?” Tim called out, surprised when her voice came out in a high alto tone instead of the low tenor she had grown used to upon being cursed as an old man. “You’re killing yourself.”

“It’s been over 12 years now,” the Witch gasped, her voice barely perceptible to Tim. “12 years since I’ve been welcomed here in this city. I’ll be damned if I let these cursed steps get the better of me. Curse Gordon and her magic!”

Tim didn’t think it wise to point out she was already damned due to her contract with Ra’s demon. She wasn’t supposed to know that.

“Good luck to you then,” Tim sighed, pushing herself up onto her feet. The big dog was good enough to get behind her and give her a small boost. “Too bad I’m not younger, or I’d lend you a hand.”

The Witch leveled an impressive scowl at Tim, but was apparently too tired from her efforts to curse her again.

“You cold hearted old hag!” the Witch cried. “Next time I’ll turn you senile too.”

Tim ignored the threat and continued on up the rest of the stairs. The afternoon sun beat down hard on her as she finally reached the top. She remained bowed over, panting even harder than the dog until she caught her breath. She turned around to look back down the stairs and saw that the Witch only had a little bit left to go as well.

“Come on!” Tim call out to her. “You’re almost there.”

“Honored guest? Please follow me,” one of the servants said as he approached Tim from the palace.

“First you should go help her get up these stairs,” Tim said breathily, nodding down at the Witch. She may have hated the Witch, but seeing her in such a state and remembering all that Dick had told Tim about her, she couldn’t help but sympathize. The Witch had said that it’d been 12 years since she’d been welcomed in Metropolis due to her contract. Apparently, now that Bruce was no longer around and Damian had moved in with Dick, her demon had allowed her to return.

“I’m afraid we are forbidden to offer such assistance,” the servant said crisply, eyeing the witch with distaste.

“That’s so rude. The King himself invited her,” Tim said, schooling her features into a disapproving glower at the servant before returning her attention to the Witch who was nearly to the top now. “Hang in there. Just a little farther to go! And you call yourself a witch?”

The taunt worked. The Witch glared at Tim and shuffled up the last of the steps.

“Just shut up!” she panted. “Who asked you?”

“What happened?” Tim asked, steadying the woman as she regained her breath. “You suddenly look so much older! Pull yourself together. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?”

After the Witch recovered enough to move on, the servant showed them inside the palace and announced them with instruction to follow the pages to their destinations. Tim was surprised that no one questioned the big dog. Surely they didn’t just let any animal come inside. How do they know whether the dog is house broken or not?

The pages would announce “Madam Nightwing and the Witch of the Waste!” every time they entered a new hall or room.

“Nightwing… now why does that sound familiar?” the Witch asked as they made their way through the fifth lavish room. At least it was nice and cool inside compared to outside.

“Of course it’s familiar,” Tim huffed, glancing nervously at the dog. Nightwing was Dick’s Wizard name in Metropolis, but apparently either the Witch didn’t know that, or she was so tired by their climb up the stairs that she’d forgotten. “That was the name of my family’s antique store, or don’t you remember?”

“Is that what it was?” the Witch said in a tone that conveyed how much she really didn’t care.

They were eventually led to a large room with a grand chandelier and many decorative candelabras. In spite of the many light sources the space was dimly lit. The only thing in the middle of the room was a single chair that the Witch claimed at once. While the Witch breathed a sigh of relief at being able to sit down, Tim noticed that her canine companion was no longer beside her. She looked up just in time to see the dog’s haunches disappear through a doorway on his left.

“Dick!” Tim hissed, glancing nervously at the Witch. “Get back here.”

Of course the dog didn’t so Tim hurried after it. She was rather surprised that the doorway led to a dark alcove that appeared to be a dead end until a panel in the wall opened up to reveal… Cassandra! Tim stared in amazement at his childhood friend, hardly daring to believe that it was really her.

Cassandra was dressed in a fine dark purple shirt and black satin floor length skirt. She either didn’t notice Tim’s reaction or assumed that she was surprised by her sudden appearance.

“This way please, Ma’am,” Cassandra said in a pleasant tone.

She led Tim down a series of hallways until they came to a large beautiful atrium where all sorts of trees and plants were in full bloom with a variety of exotic flowers. They headed down a path to the middle of the space where the gardens gave way to marble floors and a sort of office space where a woman in a large cushioned wheelchair was speaking to several men in black suits. Their business must have just concluded, because when Tim and Cassandra approached, the men were bowing and beginning to depart. Cassandra had Tim stop and wait a few meters back while she approached the woman. They spoke quietly to each other for a moment and the woman in the wheelchair made a note of some kind in a book on the table next to her before signalling Tim to take the seat across from her.

“I’m sure you’re tired from your trip up all those stairs. Please have a seat. I understand that you’re Dick’s mother,” the woman said, bright green eyes dancing as she took in Tim’s appearance.

“Yes. My name is Nightwing,” Tim said, curtsying and smoothing out her skirts before sitting.

The woman looked like she was around Dick’s age. She had vibrant red hair and a pretty smile. In spite of being nervous about this visit, Tim couldn’t help but relax a little in her welcoming presence.

“I am Madam Barbara Gordon, His Majesty’s witch.”

Tim nodded in acknowledgement but his gaze was suddenly drawn to the great dane lying under the woman’s table. It was panting, tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“That’s not your dog is it?” Tim asked.

“His name is Titus,” Madam Gordon said, smiling down at the big beast. “He’s my errand dog. I asked him to escort you.”

Tim withheld a sigh. And she’d thought that the mutt was Dick. Now she felt really foolish.

“I take it Dick won’t be joining us?” Madam Gordon asked.

“He’s such a lazy boy,” Tim huffed, her face taking on an unimpressed expression. “He sent me instead to make his excuses. I’m afraid His Majesty would find him completely useless.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Madam Gordon sighed. “What a shame. He and I were apprentices together under Wizard Wayne. I was always jealous of his great talent. He seemed to be able to do certain things so effortlessly while I had to work hard on them. I was sure that Wizard Wayne would pick him to be his successor or that King Clark would appoint him as Court Wizard instead of me after our mentor retired. But then one day his heart was stolen by a demon and he left before completing his apprenticeship.”

Madam Gordon’s voice turned frosty and her eyes flashed dangerously.

“And from then on, Dick has been using his magic for entirely selfish reasons. Mrs. Nightwing, your son has become extremely dangerous. His power is far too great for someone without a heart. If he stays selfish and follows that path, I’m afraid he’ll end up just like the Witch of the Waste. Send her in!” Madam Gordon ordered and Cassandra bowed from her position off to the side and hurried off.

She returned a minute later with the Witch of the Waste sitting on a rolling cart, hunched and seemingly shrunken in on herself.

“What happened?” Tim gasped, slipping from her seat and knelt next to the woman who no longer looked young. She was as old as Tim looked. Her tan skin several shades paler, her brown eyes dull and vacant, and her hair was pure white. She was still lovely looking, however. Even time and age couldn’t mare her beauty it seemed.

“I just restored her to the age that she actually is,” Madam Gordon explained, eyes cold as she looked down on the witch. “All of her powers are gone now, so her arts can no longer keep her young. She is also no longer tied to her demon and this is all that is left of her. It’s a pity really. She was once a magnificent witch with so much promise.”

Tim looked back down at the Witch of the Waste. Even though he was glad that she was no longer tied to a demon, it was clear that that time spent in it’s thrall had cost her.

“Our kingdom can no longer afford to turn a blind eye to these disreputable witches and wizards,” Madam Gordon continued. “If Dick comes here and reports to me and vows to use his magic to serve the kingdom, I shall teach him how to break free from his demon. If not…” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I’ll strip him of all his powers just like her.”

Tim had had enough and stood up to face the woman. “Now, just one minute!”

Cassandra and Titus the dog jumped slightly at her sudden exclamation.

“Now I know why Dick was so concerned about coming to see you,” Tim said, leveling a glare at the woman, not caring in the slightest that she was probably the most powerful witch in the kingdom. “Something is not right here. It’s a trap! You lure people into coming here and drag them through strange rooms where you strip them of all their powers. And you call Dick heartless. Yes, he’s selfish and cowardly and unpredictable and hard to understand, but his intentions are good. He only wants to be free. Dick won’t come here. He doesn’t need your help. He’ll battle the demon on his own. I’m certain of it and believe in him.”

Madam Gordon stared at Tim for a moment before smiling.

“Now I understand. You love Dick.”

Tim frowned, leveling a confused look at the woman across from her, glancing in confusion at Cassandra who was now staring at her with a shocked expression. Say what now?

“However,” Madam Gordon said, regaining her attention. “Dick will most certainly come. I’ve now found his weakness,  _ Mrs. _ Nightwing.”

Tim’s confusion only increased as their attention was drawn to a two-seater skyplane that had landed in the courtyard visible through the atrium’s glass walls. A man disembarked the plane and entered through a door that Cassandra had hurried to open for him. He was dressed in the red, blue and yellow colors of the royal family and Tim froze when he realized that he was in the presence of the king, His Majesty Clark Kent himself.

King Clark strode through the room, coming to a stop between Tim and Madam Gordon.

“Your Majesty,” Madam Gordon said, bowing her head.

“As you were,” the king said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Meetings bore me. I flew out for a breather. Thought I’d stop by.”

“How lovely.”

“Who are your guests?” the King asked, turning his attention to Tim and the Witch who looked more present. She’s stopped hunching in on herself at least and sat regally on the cart as if it were a throne instead.

“This is Wizard Nightwing’s mother.”

“I see.” The King approached Tim and stood before her. Tim swallowed nervously, but remembered to curtsy.

“Thank you for coming. I appreciate it, but I’ve decided not to use magic to win this war. We’ve tried to use Madam Gordon’s magic to shield our palace from the enemy’s bombs, but they just fall on civilian homes instead. That’s the problem with magic, right, Gordon?”

“You’re so eloquent today, your Majesty.”

“Gordon!”

Tim jumped at the sudden call, and was surprised to see another King Clark come strolling into the atrium and up to Madam Gordon’s chair. The king before her tensed minutely. Tim found herself staring suspiciously between the two men.

“We’ve got a new battle plan. This time, Diana and I are sure we’ll crush Ra’s forces,” the king next to Madam Gordon claimed. Then the man caught sight of his twin standing beside Tim. He stared for a moment before letting out a boisterous laugh.

“Gordon, that’s the best double you’ve made of me yet. Keep up the good work.”

That said, King Clark marched back out of the room, chortling to himself.

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty,” Madam Gordon said pleasantly before turning to look at the remaining “King Clark.” “So nice to see you again, Dick. It’s been a while.”

“You’re looking well, Babs,” Dick’s voice said from the king’s mouth.

“Rather weak disguise. Didn’t Bruce teach you better than that?”

“I’m not trying to outwit you,” Dick claimed, the king’s face fading and returning to his own. “I’ve kept my oath and reported when summoned. I’ve no wish to fight you. Now mother and I will go.”

“I’m afraid not,” Madam Gordon said, that dangerous glint in her eye again as she raised her staff from it’s place beside her chair and tapped it onto the floor.

The air around her chair shimmered a moment before a large wave of water came crashing over them. Tim gasped, but Dick tucked her under his arm and held her against his side. The water went over their heads, but didn’t drown them. The atrium vanished and Tim felt herself floating with the Witch clutching at her skirts as the floor below them disappeared only to be replaced with a forest canopy several kilometers below their feet as they hovered in a sunset sky.

“Whatever you do, don’t look down,” Dick ordered. “The magic will drag you down if you do.”

“It’s time you showed your  _ mother _ what you really are, Dick,” Madam Gordon’s voice said, echoing around them.

Tim gasped softly as several stars started to fall through the sky around them, their shining ends lighting up and forming shadowy bodies that began to circle them, chanting some strange song. Tim wasn’t sure what was going on, but suddenly Dick’s body began to change. His form rippled and bird features started to rip through his skin and replace their human counterparts. Dick began to growl, making pained sounds as his body transformed, screaming as a pair of wings sprouted from his back, tearing his clothes.

That was when Tim saw her. Madam Gordon was appearing out of the dark beyond the star people, her staff raised high like a spear. Dick saw her too and snarled, looking like he was ready to launch himself at her and attack.

“Dick, don’t! It’s a trap!” Tim cried, pushing her hand up to cover Dick’s eyes.

Apparently that was all Dick needed to recover himself. His arms wrapped around Tim and with a big flap of his wings he got them out of the way of Madam Gordon’s staff, which missed them by centimeters. Dick flew them straight up and they crashed through the glass ceiling of the atrium, suddenly finding themselves outside.

When they began to descend, Dick guided them into a smooth glide, his bird features disappearing rapidly, and deposited them onto the two-seater skyplane he’d landed minutes ago outside the atrium. The Witch was plopped into the back seat and Tim in the front with Dick standing at ease beside her looking 100% human again.

“Hold tight,” Dick ordered as, with a touch, the skyplane came to life, lifting up into the sky. Before they were more than a meter off the ground, a black blur came tearing out of the atrium, jumped, and landed behind Tim between her seat and the Witch’s. Tim shrieked, jerking her head around to see that it was the damn dog and not Cassandra that had boarded them. The Witch looked amused, staring down at the beast that was almost bigger than she was. Then they were high up in the air well over the trees and the palace grounds and it was too late for Tim to suggest that they get rid of Gordon’s monster dog.

“Did you have to bring those two with you?” Dick laughed when he spotted the pair behind them.

Tim huffed, glowering at Dick, but that only seemed to make the man smile more obnoxiously. Obviously he didn’t mind having them along at all.

“Good boy,” they heard the Witch coo as the dane settled low on the deck of the plane, and curled under her seat. Tim was surprised that the damn thing fit under there.

“Tim, you steer,” Dick suddenly said. 

Tim blinked up at him in alarm before casting the steering post a fearful glance.

“What?!” she gasped. “I can’t fly! Are you kidding me?!”

“They’re coming after us,” Dick explained calmly. Tim glanced behind them and saw a good dozen skyplanes like their own gaining on them, each with a pilot and gunman.

“Don’t worry.” Dick smiled. “I’ll distract them. Then you can fly this thing back to my castle in the Wastes.”

“HOW?!” Tim shrieked, but took hold of the steering stick beneath Dick’s hand. “I don’t know the way.”

“You don’t have to. Remember the ring I gave you? It’ll guide you back home,” Dick squeezed Tim’s shoulder comfortingly with his free hand. “All you have to do is summon Jason with your heart.”

Tim stared at the ring on her finger that Dick had put on her earlier and frowned up at him.

“Summon Jason with my heart? What nonsense are you spouting? How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Tim growled.

“Just picture him in your mind and think about him really hard,” Dick laughed.

Tim scowled, but did as Dick said and thought about the fire demon she’d really started to take a liking to. The gem on her ring flashed and suddenly a small beam of light shone out of the gem and pointed ahead of her.

“It’s glowing,” Tim gasped in amazement.

“Good girl,” Dick cooed, earning another glare from Tim. “Just keep following that light and you should be there before dark.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tim snapped. “Why did you send me to see Gordon if you were coming yourself?!”

“Knowing you’d be there gave me courage,” Dick admitted, his smile turning sheepish. “That woman terrifies me. I couldn’t face her on my own after all these years. You saved me, Tim. I was in  _ big _ trouble back there.”

That was when Dick let go of the steering column and Tim was flying the blasted airship on her own.

“Don’t let go!” Tim shrieked, over correcting the flight and sent them drifting hard to the right towards a bell tower. Tim gasped, jerking at the steering column to try correct her mistake and managed to fly them between the support beams of the open part of the tower and beneath the bell hanging there instead of into anything. She did it taking the plane through sideways, granted, but other than a terrifying screech from the metal at the tail rubbing against something, they made it through unscathed. If the excited barking from the dog and the melodious laughter of the Witch behind her was any indication, Tim had managed not to knock anybody off. Yet.

“Wow! You’re good,” Dick laughed.

“ARE YOU NUTS?!” Tim cried, glaring up at the man once she was sure she wasn’t about to fly them into anymore towers.

Unfortunately, even with Tim’s shortcut through the top of a belltower, the other skyplanes were still in pursuit. They had, however gained a decent lead. Dick even said so before he bent over her shoulder to speak in her ear.

“I can give you 5 minutes of invisibility, so use it wisely,” he said before standing up straight and waving his right arm sharply out to the side. Then Dick began to drift away from them on a copy of the skyplane. Tim gasped in amazement and alarm as he, his skyplane and it’s copy passengers flew away.

“Good luck!” Dick cheered, winking and giving her a salute before turning his plane away from them, heading in a different direction and vanishing from sight. 

Tim growled, snapping her eyes forward, and realized that she’d allowed their plane to lose altitude. She quickly corrected her flightpath so that she didn’t run into any trees. Then she made sure to fly up to the clouds so that they could provide a good cover for the rest of her trip. Hours slowly passed by and Tim flew the plane and it’s passengers over several other cities and towns before she recognized the sprawl of Gotham below her. It wouldn’t be long now before she reached the Wastes. However, it was Gotham, and Gotham was well known for her crappy weather. Today wasn’t any different. The clouds were dark and grey up ahead and before Tim knew it, she and the others were drenched with rain. Tim was freezing, but didn’t let that stop her. The light coming from her ring grew brighter and shone on strongly.

“We’re not far!” Tim cried encouragingly, looking back at the others once they cleared Gotham’s airspace and the rain. 

The Witch gave her a dull stare from beneath the layers of her soaked shawl and the dog whimpered miserably, staring up at her with big sad eyes.

It was another half hour before they were skimming over the rocky hills and up into the mountains that Tim had had such a hard time hiking several days ago when she’d first been cursed to be an old man. As they crested the next mountain top, Tim spotted the castle in the distance on the next ridge.

“The castle’s come to meet us!” Tim cried delightedly.

Jason must have been working it over time because smoke was billowing from its many turrets and spouts. Tim could just make out Damian standing by the rail on the deck of the second story. The boy waved his arms at her as they approached. 

As they got even closer, Tim suddenly stiffened with fright. She didn’t know how to land this thing! She never did either. She flew the plane straight into the castle’s froggy mouth’s maw, with it clamping down shut behind her with a crash. Tim isn’t sure how none of them died, but after crashing the skyplane into the castle’s mouth, she found herself thrown from her seat and into a space behind the wall beyond where her little nook under the stairs was supposed to be. She could hear Damian’s hurried footsteps thundering down the stairs above her.

“Timothy?!” the boy cried, hurtling around the banister only to skid to a stop and stare at the Witch who was still sitting in the back seat of the skyplane, the back half of which had ended up on top of the sofa Tim used as a bed. The front half of the plane had gone through the wall with Tim. Gordon’s great Dane wiggled around until it was out from underneath the Witch’s seat and licked up at her face, causing the Witch to smile and coo “Good boy” at it. Damian flinched back, glaring angrily at her until Tim shifted enough debris aside to get back through the hole in the wall.

“Damian! I’m home,” she cried as jovially as possible. The boy stared at her for a long moment, no doubt because her voice was different and the fact that he was staring at the generous “bosom” that she hadn’t had when she’d left as a crossdressing man that morning.

“Are you hurt?!” he demanded, reaching forward to help her through the mess the crash had made of the living room.

“A little bruised, but I’ll live,” Tim sighed, tugging the boy into a hug. “God, what a day. Thank you so much for coming to meet us.”

Damian squirmed in her arms for a bit before she allowed him to pull away.

“What the hell happened?!” Damian demanded. “Dick sent word for us to disconnect the castle from the residences in Coast City and Metropolis. We did, but only minutes before both doors were kicked in and raided by King’s soldiers. And what happened to you? Despite your strangely feminine facial structure and physique, you were not this way this morning. And what is the Witch of the Waste and her dog doing here?!”

“Breathe Damian. I’ll explain in a minute,” Tim sighed, pushing him gently towards Jason’s fireplace. The fire demon divided his attention between staring at Tim in concern and glaring at the Witch with distaste.

Tim helped the Witch down from her seat on the ruined skyplane and into the chair before Jason’s fireplace. The dog happily trotted beside them until it spotted Damian and bounded over to lick his face. On all fours it was as tall as he was. Damian made a disgusted sound, and tried to push the beast away, but the dog wasn’t having it, all but jumping the kid and demanding attention.

“Timothy! I demand that you get this Witch’s dog off me this instant.”

“He isn’t the Witch of the Waste’s,” Tim huffed, but was smiling all the same at the sight. “He’s Madam Gordon’s. He jumped aboard was we were taking off.” 

Jason laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the tale to tell, Timmers. Like how you’re an old maid instead of an old man.”

“It was the Witch’s last gift to me before Gordon stripped her of her magic,” Tim grumbled sarcastically, glaring at the Witch, who only smiled serenely at her.

“Is that why she’s so old looking now?” Damian growled, finally managing to shove the great dane off of him.

The Witch glared at the boy until the dog got up and trotted to her side, keening slightly at her. She stared down at the dog before smiling sadly and began to scratch behind the canine’s ears.

Tim sighed, turning to look at the mess their crash landing had caused.

“Come on, Damian. Help me clean things up a bit and then I’ll tell you and Jason the whole story.

The boy grumbled under his breath, wiping away the dog drool on his face, but complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how fun this verse is. We've also reached the end of the bulk of the HMC movie plot I want to keep in this story. It'll begin to lean more towards the book from now on, though there will still be some movie elements. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I was debating whether or not to turn Tim into a woman via magical sex change, fearing that you guys might not like it. Then I realized it was my story and even though I enjoy hearing that readers like my work and often try to write what I think my readers would like, it is my story and as it is my story and I am the one writing it, I'll do what I damn well want with it. XD If you liked it, YAY! If not... sorry, not sorry. :P Timmy's a woman now. Deal with it. 
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! :)


	5. A Day of Truths and A Change in Locations

After Tim had told the story of how he had become a she and how things had gone down at the palace, everyone had turned in for the night. The Witch was asleep on the sofa that Tim and Damian had managed to drag out from under the skyplane’s wreck and the great dane was curled up beside her on the floor. Tim wasn’t sure where Damian had found a spare mattress, but she hadn’t complained when she settled down to sleep on it on the floor a few feet away from Jason’s fireplace. 

Jason peeked sleepily out from his firebox when he heard the soft squeak and clank of the door opening. He was soon wide awake when he saw Dick lumbering up the stairs looking worse than he had the other night, blood dripping down his sleeve-wings, shedding singed feathers, and leaving bloody bird shaped footprints in his wake.

“Oh, this is bad,” Jason hissed. “You’ve gone too far, Dickie.”

Dick didn’t reply as he silently passed the three sleeping bodies in his living room. That worried Jason even more than the blood. Dick always had something to say.

A minute later, Jason saw Tim stir. The night had done what it always had, returning Tim to his… her youth. It amazed Jason how little difference there was between a boy Tim and a girl Tim. Apparently, this second spell of the Witch of the Waste’s worked differently than the curse that had made Tim old.

“I wonder if Dick’s back,” he heard her mutter, while she stared up at the ceiling. He watched her as she bent over the mattress she was on and picked up a black feather. It disintegrated in her fingers. She gasped and looked back upstairs worriedly before tugging on her boots.

Jason watched without comment as she hurried quietly over to the dining table, lit a candle, and carefully climbed up the stairs. He listened to her ascend to the second story landing and moved down the hallway towards Dick’s room. The moment she crossed the threshold, the castle fell silent. He wondered what she was going to find up there. Who knew what kind of mood Dick was in? He could make the castle into a maze if he wanted to. Jason sighed and looked around the room until his gaze met the Witch’s and the dog’s. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they were worried too.

The three of them held a silent vigil of sorts until an hour later Dick came back down with Tim curled up in his arms, asleep. He was a lot more put together, not sporting any feathers or blood, but he still looked like he’d had a rough day.

“What did you do?!” Jason hissed.

“I put her to sleep,” Dick said softly, his voice low and hoarse, as he laid her back down on the mattress. “I didn’t want her to see me like that.”

Jason growled, but the Witch and the dog remained silent, as they watched Dick move a strand of Tim’s hair out of her face and covered her with the blankets.

“Leave her be,” Dick said more firmly. “She’s been through enough.” He aimed a hard glare at the Witch before heading back upstairs. “We’ll be moving the castle again tomorrow and I must consider other possible residential options now that Babs is actively hunting me. In a few hours make hot water for my bath.”

Jason groaned, but didn’t utter another word as the wizard disappeared, the traces of his blood and feathers vanishing as he left. Jason, the Witch, and the dog shared another look before settling back down to rest for another couple of hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim dreamed that Dick had returned injured from Metropolis and that she was still a she, funny enough. You’d think that in a dream, she’d be a boy again like she usually was in her dreams. This gender change wasn’t even 24 hours old yet and she was already getting used to feminine pronouns, even in her subconscious thoughts, it seemed. Of course it wouldn’t be the first time Tim had dreamed of being a girl. Damn Stephanie and Cassandra and his traumatizing childhood.

Anyways. Dream. Dick. Injured. Blood and feathers trailing through the living room, up the stairs and down to Dick’s bedroom that wasn’t a bedroom when she’d opened the door. Instead there had been a dark tunnel that continued on and on forever it seemed until it branched off into two directions. The tunnels did this many times, in fact, but Tim always followed the forks that had a trail of singed and bloody feathers scattered down them. She knew she was getting close when she began to hear heavy and pained breathing.

She slowed as the tunnel stopped abruptly and she was confronted with a wall of feathers that quivered with every pained breath.

“Dick? Is that you?” Tim asked the big mass of feathers. “Are you hurt? Tell me what’s happening.”

“Stay away,” Dick’s voice growled in a hoarse gravelly voice.

“No,” Tim said firmly, crouching down beside where Tim figured his head was. “I want to help you. I want to break the spell you’re under.”

“You?” Dick let out a harsh laugh. “You can’t even break your own spell.”

The mass of feathers began to move, forcing Tim back up on her feet and away a pace as the feathered figure towered over her. Tim opened her mouth to retort, but Dick cut her off with a growled, “It’s too late.”

In a big flurry of feathers, Dick took off, leaving Tim alone in the tunnel.

“Dick! No!” Tim shouted after him, but it was too late. Dick was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim woke with a start, sitting upright, sweaty and a touch shaky, but the sound of the pipes whistling and banging in the now exposed wall caught her attention.

“Jason, did Dick just get in?” Tim asked the fire demon.

“Yeah,” Jason huffed, smoaking slightly. “And he looks like shit. You better figure out how to break my spell quick. We’re both running out of time. I hope you realize that.”

“Meaning that Dick will turn into a monster? Is that it?” Tim asked grimly, thinking back to what happened at the palace in Madam Gordon’s atrium and in her dream.

“I can’t tell you the details of the curse, Lady,” Jason scowled. “You should know that by now.”

“Jason, Gordon told me,” Tim said, raising to her feet and approached the fireplace. “She said that Dick’s heart was stolen by a demon. Tell me what you know. Where is it?”

“That’s confidential information,” Jason grunted.

“And if I threatened to dump a bucket of water all over you?”

“Don’t you dare!” Jason barked, sparking in what looked like a mixture of anger and fear. “If I die, then Dick dies too.”

“So you’re connected, then,” Tim mused.

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get much else out of the fire demon, Tim shuffled off to her bathroom and got ready for the day. She slipped out of the night shirt that Damian had taken from Dick’s room the night before and tried to wear some of her old clothes that she’d worn as a man, but they just didn’t fit right (the shirts were too tight around her chest and the pants wouldn’t make it up past her hips). That only left her with the one dress that she’d worn the day before, so she was glad that it had dried out overnight. On the bright side, Tim didn’t need to shave her face anymore.

Once ready for the day, Tim began making breakfast. While she was cooking bacon and eggs over Jason’s fire, the Witch of the Waste and Gordon’s beast awoke.

“Good morning,” Tim said.

“Good morning,” the Witch murmured.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

“So I see.”

It was quiet while Tim finished cooking and the Witch slowly made her way over to the kitchen table with the aid of Tim’s cane and the dog at her side.

“Such a good dog,” Tim heard the old woman coo with a sigh as she took the nearest seat, which was usually Dick’s on the rare occasions that the man decided to eat with them.

The thudding footsteps above them announced Damian’s awakening as the boy moved around in his room for a few minutes before he slowly made his way downstairs. The boy glared at the back of the Witch’s head, moving around the room to remain as far away from her as he could, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table as Tim dished up the plates, setting an extra setting for Dick as she did so. If the man didn’t come down to eat, she’d feed his serving to the dog - Madam Gordon had said his name was Titus, hadn’t she?

“Good morning, Damian,” Tim said, with a pleasant smile.

“...Morning,” Damian mumbled, after staring at her for a minute.

“Is something wrong?” Tim asked.

“It… is just strange how little difference there is between your male and female countenances, apart from your voice. I hadn’t realized how feminine you were until I saw you in a dress.”

Tim’s eyebrow ticked in irritation, and glared at the Witch who was now chuckling behind a hand.

“Sorry, dearie, the boy is right,” the Witch said. “If I could, I’d lift the old age curse just to see how much more of a pretty thing you are now that you are a gender that better suits you.”

“Like that helps me now. Just eat your breakfast,” Tim snapped, passing out cups for tea.

Tim then gathered the kettle from where it was heating next to Jason and poured the scalding liquid into her and Damian’s cups. When she lifted the kettle up and nodded at the Witch’s cup, the woman inclined her head and watched Tim pour her tea.

“I am sorry for what I did to you,” the woman said softly, causing Tim to stop on her way over to her seat beside Damian on the other side of the table. “What I’ve done this last decade… what the Joker has made me do…”

When the woman’s voice trailed off, Tim turned around to face her. She was still a very lovely woman, but she looked tired and truly sad.

“I’ve caused so much pain,” she said so softly it was almost a whisper. “Been the source of so much fear…”

“Do you regret making the contract?” Tim asked.

The woman startled. Her eyes wide. ‘ _ You know? _ ’ she seemed to ask.

Tim inclined her head slightly, like the Witch had done when Tim had asked her if she’d wanted tea. She knew. Then her eyes darted to Damian, who looked confused by their exchange, before returning her gaze to the Witch.

The woman’s shoulders slumped a fraction beneath her shawl, but she was smiling sadly as she shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I can’t say that I do.”

“Then accept what has happened, move on and do better, Miss Witch,” Tim said, turning back around to take her seat.

“…Talia.”

Tim looked up at the woman.

“I no longer possess any magic, meaning that I’m no longer a Witch. I’m… just Talia again.”

There was a loud clattering sound and Tim jumped as hot liquid met the hand she had resting on the table. She looked up and noticed Damian staring at the Wit… Talia.

“Damian?” Tim asked, moving quickly to mop up the spilled tea. The clatter had been the boy dropping his tea cup onto his plate. “Are you alright? The tea hasn’t burned you has it?”

“No,” the boy mumbled weakly, allowing Tim to fuss over him. That only worried her more. Damian didn’t like being fussed over.

“You…” the boy said, his voice cracking a bit, staring at Talia. “You’re…” 

“Yes. I’m… your mother, Damian,” Talia said gently.

Damian made a hurt sound, shaking his head as he pushed away from the table, raising to his feet.

“No,” he choked. “Father said you were dead.”

“...I might as well have been,” she told him.

“And you’re the reason he’s gone,” he growled, his shock turning to anger. “It’s all your fault. Everything is your fault!”

“I know,” Talia said, throat visibly tightening as she struggled to breathe evenly. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies!” Damian roared. “I want my father back! I hate you!”

“Damian!” Tim called out as the boy bolted from the room and up the stairs. A moment later they heard his door slam.

Talia let out a shaky breath and sniffed delicately. Titus whined and rested his head on her lap. She gave the big canine a watery smile as she pet his head.

“... Are you alright?” Tim asked as she finished cleaning up the spilled tea and tried to salvage what she could of Damian’s drenched breakfast. Giving it up for the lost cause it was, she whistled for the dog and set the plate on the floor. The dog gave another whine, but licked Talia’s fingers before trotting over to the plate and gobbled down the ruined meal.

“I’m … dealing,” the woman sighed. “I knew he’d be mad and I don’t blame him. He has every right to hate me.”

“He’ll come around. …Eventually,” Tim said after a moment, picking up the plate once the dog was done with it. “He’s mad at the Witch of the Waste, not Talia Wayne. Just show him who Talia is. Show us who you really are.”

“Why are you being so kind?” Talia asked, watching Tim as she gathered up her plate and the one she’d set for Dick.

“The night before last, Dick told me what happened to you,” Tim sighed. “But, from what I understand, no one has told Damian because they were afraid he’d go looking for you and that you’d kill him when he found you.”

“I wouldn’t have. He’s my baby,” Talia said softly, before adding bitterly, “but the Joker would have.”

“You still love Damian,” Tim mused.

“Of course I do,” the woman snapped. “I gave my life in exchange for the power to save him. All I’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe.”

“Then why hunt for Dick?” Tim asked.

“He should have been there the day Bruce sought me out in the Wastes,” Talia said stiffly. “Richard has always been Bruce’s star apprentice. He’s a very skilled and talented young man with a great affinity for all sorts of magic. Bruce and I had never seen someone with such promise before. It should have been Richard at Bruce’s side, not Gordon. For all her power and skill, Gordon does not possess a natural prowess in harnessing magical energies. To her, magic is a tool. It is something she has to consciously use in order for it to work. It limits the types of magics she can tap into. For Richard, however, using magic is as easy as breathing. It is a natural extension of his being. People think he is great and formidable now, but imagine what he could be like if he actually applied himself. It should have been Richard. Why was he not with Bruce? They could have faced Joker together and killed him, and rid the world of his putrid existence. Bruce wouldn’t have died!”

Talia was breathing hard as she sank back into her chair.

“I don’t know why Dick wasn’t with Wizard Wayne that day,” Tim said softly, “but I do know that what happened is not his fault. Maybe his presence could have made a difference, but you can’t blame someone who wasn’t there. We don’t know what was going on at the time. All we know is that Bruce took Madam Gordon with him and that he died and she was paralyzed from the waist down. As I see it, the only one that deserves the blame is the demon.”

“...I know,” Talia whispered. “At least…I know that now. Bruce and Richard have always had their ups and downs. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d had a falling out or were giving each other the silent treatment at the time. Both men were incredibly stubborn.”

Tim nodded, and headed for the stairs, plates of luke-warm food in hand.

When she reached Damian’s room, she was - and yet wasn’t - surprised to see Dick come out, heaving a heavy sigh. They stared at each other for a moment before Dick stepped aside and gestured for Tim to pass through. Tim nodded, but shoved a plate into his hands before she did so.

“You better eat all of it, Dick, or I’ll have Jason withhold all the hot water for your baths,” she said, taking a small twinge of joy at his baffled expression. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He huffed, but a smile graced his lips as he took the plate and headed into his room to do who knew what.

“That man,” she muttered before opening the door to Damian’s bedroom.

“Go away, Grayson,” Damian snapped. The boy was curled up on top of his bed, facing away from the door.

“It’s just me, Damian,” Tim said softly, “May I come in?”

The boy didn’t say anything, so Tim took that as permission, shutting the door behind her.

“Did you know?” Damian asked.

“That the Witch of the Waste was your mother? Yes, but Dick didn’t tell me until after he threw that tantrum the other day,” Tim said.

“Of course he did. Why didn’t he tell me? You’ve only been here for a week. He’s known me since I was an infant! He’s known this whole time!” Damian curled up even more. “I hate him.”

“No you don’t,” Tim said, sitting beside him and setting the plate of food an the bedside table. “You’re mad at him, sure, but you don’t hate him. Not really. He didn’t tell you because your father didn’t want you to know. Dick’s just been trying to keep you safe this whole time.”

“Why?”

“Why keep you safe?” Tim hummed, amused. “Because he loves you, obviously.”

“Not that,” Damian huffed, sitting up. “Why didn’t they want me to know who she is? Why did they make me think my mother has been dead all this time?”

“They were afraid that you’d seek her out,” Tim said, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “They were afraid that if you found her, that she would kill you.”

“...Would she have?” Damian asked.

“No,” Tim said, firmly. “But the demon that held her contract would have killed you for sure.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she told me so. She’s missed you and loves you even though you are practically strangers. Did Dick not tell you what happened when he was in here?”

“I...wouldn’t let him,” Damian muttered. “I didn’t want to hear his excuses. What… what happened to her?”

Tim told Damian all that Dick had told him the night before, and what he’d learned when speaking to Talia. Damian was quiet and ate the by now cold food that Tim had brought up.

“Just give her a chance, Damian,” Tim said softly. “Let’s see what she’s like without the demon’s influence. You might be surprised.”

“Fine,” Damian huffed. “What now?”

“Now?” Tim hummed, smiling. “Now I need your help to clean up the wreck that’s now our living room.”

Damian groaned. “Do you  _ ever _ stop cleaning?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Damian was outside the castle standing in front of it’s face with a rope in hand. Gordon’s beast was bounding behind him, tugging at the end of the rope clamped in his jaws, tail wagging excitedly like this was all a game. Even Football Head was there with a section of the rope wrapped around his middle in front of Damian. Tim smiled fondly at the sight of the trio from where she was standing in the castle’s maw with the wrecked skyplane tied off on the other end of the rope.

“Ready!” Damian shouted up as he and Titus pulled the rope taught.

“Ok! Open it wider, Jason,” Tim instructed before taking up her position behind the skyplan to push it out. Then she shouted out to Damian. “Here goes! Pull!”

The rope creaked as the boy, dog and scarecrow pulled hard. Even the castle groaned as Jason eased the castle back, but the damned plane wouldn’t budge.

“I … said… move!” Tim snapped irritably from where she was pushing. Then she gave it a sharp kick with her booted foot. “Come on!”

That was when the skyplane jittered to life. It’s wings hummed as the engine suddenly turned on and began flapping, throwing up light debris as it twitched and began to skitter forward out of the castle’s maw and roll off it’s tongue.

Damian let out a sharp yell and Titus began barking furiously as the plane crashed mere meters in front of them and began to flop after them until it crashed into a rock and fell apart, ceasing all functions altogether. Tim moved as far out of the mouth as she dared to make sure that everyone was alright, but her worry eased significantly as Damian burst into laughter and the dog began prancing around, barking up a storm as he darted around the plane, lunging at it and yipping. Even Football head was jumping up and down in a hilarious fashion.

Tim sighed in relief and let them be for a few minutes, happy that none of them were hurt and that they appeared to be having fun. It was the most childlike Tim had seen Damian act and was loth to ruin the moment for him.

“They call it a castle, but once you get inside, it’s a junk heap,” Tim huffed fondly as she swept the remaining debris out the nook, “With the way those boys lived, I’m sure that if I put up a curtain here, Dick wouldn’t even notice.”

Talia chuckled from where she was sitting by Jason’s hearth, watching the stew that Tim had prepared for dinner.

“Boys,” the woman chortled.

“I would take offence to that, but seeing as I grew up wearing girl’s clothing half the time and the fact that I’m now actually part of the female persuasion for the foreseeable future I find myself completely agreeing,” Tim huffed.

“Now there’s a story I’d love to hear,” Talia mused while Jason sparked and peeked out from beneath the cauldron hovering over him in curiosity.

“Perhaps when we know each other a little better,” Tim said dryly, ignoring the woman’s pout and the hiss and smoke coming from Jason.

“Better call Damian inside,” Talia sighed. “The stew looks ready.”

Tim nodded and poked her head outside to call the boy and dog in for lunch, which turned into a quiet affair. Tim was rather irritated that Dick hadn’t come down for anything to eat even though Damian had told the man that lunch was ready. Just as everyone was finishing, however, Dick finally came down the stairs in tight form fitting black slacks and a loose white shirt that was tucked in at the waist but hung loose from his shoulders, and the sleeves were rolled up and puffed out a bit just above his elbows.

“Grayson,” Damian said, nodding in greeting.

“Afternoon everyone,” Dick said cheerfully, pointedly setting an empty plate in the sink. It was the one Tim had pushed on him that morning for breakfast.

“Afternoon,” Tim said neutrally but ladled up a fresh bowl of stew and slid it onto the table with an equally pointed look back.

Dick smiled sheepishly but took his place at the table with grace and took a few bites, looking around the table as he did so.

“The Witch of the Waste and Madam Gordon’s dog at my table, what possessed you to let them into my house, Jason?” Dick said, voice laced with amusement as he turned those twinkling blue-grey eyes on the fire demon.

“Don’t look at me!” Jason snapped. “I didn’t let them in. Timmy crash landed her plane right into my face!”

Dick’s head fell back as he let out a loud boisterous laugh.

“I knew she’d make a great pilot,” Dick snickered, before taking a few more bites of stew. “Always so dramatic.”

“You’re the dramatic one,” Tim sniffed scowling when Dick got up from the table with only half his stew eaten and watched him head for the nook under the stairs and the great big hole there from the crash. Football Head was standing in there, swaying with the gentle breeze coming in from the draft.

“So you’re the one Timmy calls Football Head,” Dick mused, hands on his hips as he looked the scarecrow up and down. “Looks like we have yet another addition to this family. You’ve got quite a nasty spell on you too, huh? Seems everyone in this family has problems. So!” Dick spun around to address everyone once more. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. We’re moving!”

“Moving?” Tim repeated, wondering what the man could mean. The castle was already quite mobile.

“Excellent,” Damian said. “There aren’t any shops here in the middle of nowhere. We can’t make any money to support ourselves if we don’t have a place to find customers.”

Tim smiled wryly at the boy. It always amused her to find him thinking about such adult things.

“Madam Gordon is hot on our trail so we need to hurry. She can track us down in no time here, so I want to get us situated as soon as possible so that Jason can move the physical castle again,” Dick sighed before turning to face Football Head. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to stay behind out here in the Wastes until we’re done. The magic in your spell’s too risky.”

Football Head nodded and jumped out of the hole in the wall.

“Now let’s get started,” Dick said hurrying off somewhere before Tim could insist that he finish his lunch.

Tim scowled, but began the process of cleaning up everyone’s dirty dishes.

Half an hour later Tim saw Dick outside the castle with a field chalker making some sort of large symbol on the ground with Damian and Titus moving ahead of him, occasionally throwing a rock or stick that would be in the way of Dick’s lines. When Dick called out, saying he was done, Jason moved the castle until it was situated over it to Dick’s satisfaction. Only then did Dick reenter the castle and had Damian and Tim help him move all of the furniture against the walls so that the middle was clear. After that was done, Dick had everyone sit atop the table up off the floor and took out a piece of chalk and made another symbol on the floor in the center of the space.

“There,” Dick declared. “That should do it. “Stay right where you are and sit tight for a second.” 

Tim frowned, wondering what Dick was up to as the man took the fireplace shovel and came up to the hearth.

“Are you ready, Jay?”

Jason emerged from between the logs in his grate in a small huddled flame, flickering nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jason sighed. “You know this could kill me, don’t you?”

“Look on the bright side,” Dick grinned, “it could be me it kills. Hold on tight. One, two, three.”

Tim felt Damian grip her hand, squeezing tightly as Dick dug the shovel into the grate and very steadily wedging it under Jason’s position. Then, even more slowly, he raised it. Damian and Talia bother seemed to be holding their breath until Jason was clear of the fireplace and the logs toppled sideways, no longer burning.

“Done!” Dick cheered, grinning as he straightened up and turned around, carrying Jason on the shovel.

“Be gentle with me, Dickie,” Jason growled nervously as they moved towards the symbol Dick had drawn. “If you drop me, you will forever regret the day we met!”

Poor Jason’s green eyes were wide with fear, and he kept shooting out little arm-shaped flames out on either side, in a useless attempt to take hold of the sides of the shovel.

“Won’t be long. Here we go. On my mark,” Dick said lightly, ignoring Jason as he stepped into place in the symbol. He took a deep breath, held his free hand out to the side with the hand holding the shovel Jason was situated in level and above the other half of the symbol.

For a moment nothing happened, but then Dick’s hair began to float up and his shirt began to flap a bit. At first Tim just thought it was a breeze coming through the hole in the wall from where she’d crashed the skyplane last night, but the wind surrounding Dick got stronger and Jason’s normally small flame exploded and rose up towards the ceiling, waves of magic rolling off him and flying around the house, which seemed to be expanding.

Tim watched in amazement as the hole in the wall suddenly built itself back together, this time with a window in place and was no longer below the stairs. The ceiling lifted and the rafters changed design. There was a loud pop and Tim turned and saw that there was now a door at the foot of the stairs and a nice hall table appearing in the new nook at the end between the new door and the stairs. By the new window and under the stairs another door appeared and Tim got a glimpse of a new bathroom as the walls built themselves. New furniture started popping into existence next in the new spaces and some of the old things disappeared before they were replaced. The only things that didn’t change was the fireplace and the table they were all sitting on. As the wind whipping around Dick and Jason began to settle, new wallpaper appeared on the walls, the floors changed, and they symbol Dick and Jason were standing in slowly faded until it was finally gone, the wind and changes stopping with its disappearance. 

Tim and Damian looked around in awe at the changes for a moment before Dick let out a satisfied sigh and announced, “Moving is done! You can get down now.”

He moved back to the fireplace and slowly tilted the shovel until Jason gently slid off back into his grate. The fire demon hissed a weary sigh of relief and settled low beneath his logs.

“Very nice, Grayson,” Damian mused, letting go of Tim’s hand as he slid off the table and began to explore everything, Titus right on his heels. “It’s more grand that our last place.”

“Much better,” Talia sighed as she eased herself off the table and hobbled towards the new sofa.

Tim’s gaze moved around the new space until she saw the view outside the window. With a soft gasp she got off the table and hurried over to it to see the outside properly. It was Gotham! And not just anywhere in Gotham she realized as the afternoon train rattled down the track behind the house. They were now literally a few blocks down from where her parent’s antique shop was!

“This is…” Tim murmured, turning back to examine the house, now recognizing it as the house of an old friend of her mother’s used to live in before she passed away a few months ago.

“I relocated and expanded the downstairs bathroom, since our family seems to keep growing,” Dick said, suddenly right behind her as he opened the door on her right to show her the new room below the stairs. “Come with me.”

Tim followed Dick to the foot of the stairs.

“I added two bedrooms too. One down here for Talia and another between mine and Damian’s upstairs,” Dick said as he led her up the stairs past the bathroom that was still at the landing between the two levels, but it appeared to be even bigger and grander than it had been before, clearly divided in a split Jack and Jill style so that Talia and Tim (now that he was a girl) could have their privacy on one half and Dick and Damian could have theirs on the other. Dick grinned excitedly as he brought her to the new door that appeared just before Dick’s at the end of the hall and opened the door for her.

Tim wasn’t sure what to expect, but once she entered the room she felt her jaw drop. The room’s design was simple, yet elegant. Her bed was a plain full bed, but the bedding was made of cotton and silks dyed in rich reds and golds like what she was used to when she’d lived at her parent’s. There was an antique clock on the wall, a set of silver antique brushes and other neat little treasures and antique trinkets scattered about her room. There was a closet what was mostly empty but there were a few new wrapped boxed and things waiting for her to open inside that no doubt held the starting essentials of a new wardrobe for her new sex.

“I thought it would suit you,” Dick said, smiling fondly at her with a look in his eyes that made her flush and her heart beat speed up slightly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s lovely,” Tim murmured, running her fingers over the silk comforter. “But it’s a bit much for a housekeeper, isn’t it?”

Dick snorted, shaking his head, before staring intently at her with those blue-grey eyes again.

“You’re more than a housekeeper, Tim,” he declared. “You’re family. Damian and I’d be a mess without you. Now, come on, there’s more to see!”

Tim allowed Dick to take her hand and pull her out of her new room and back to the main level where they exited the house and ended up in a courtyard Tim remembered having tea in a few times as a child with her mother and the old lady that had lived here.

“That shop’s our too,” Dick said as he led her across the yard and towards what Tim knew used to be a ladies hat shop that had gone out of business a few years ago when the old lady got too old to maintain it. It had remained unoccupied… until now. The place was empty and echoing. It’s floor was tiled in black and white squares and had shelves which had once held hats, but now there was a vase of roses and small posies of bright vibrant colors. Dick winked at Tim and led her towards the shop door.

“Come and look outside.”

He opened the door to the street, and the same shop bell that Tim remembered from his childhood tinkled just as bright and gay as it had when she’d been going to school with Steph and Cass. The street was alive with it’s usual mid-day traffic and passersby. The shop front had been newly painted blue and yellow. Curly letters painted over the window said:  _ Red Robin Charms, Spells, Potions, and Oils. _

“For reasons of disguise only,” Dick said, grinning at Tim. “I prefer Nightwing, but Babs is aware of that alias. This way Damian can continue his spell work, and Talia’s already agreed to help instruct you and him through any potion work people may inquire about. She may not be able to perform magic anymore, but she still knows her way around the craft.”

“But I can’t do any magic,” Tim balked.

“You’ve got a certain touch,” Dick said, taking her hand into his and squeezing it gently. “And most potions don’t require spell recitation. Those Damian can help you with. But we can talk about that later. Come on!”

He dragged her back through the empty shop, the courtyard and back into the house where he closed the door behind them, but didn’t continue up the stairs.

“See those new colors on the dial?” Dick asked pointing to the pinwheel above the door, which now had a yellow quarter now instead of a blue one and a purple quarter instead of a red one. “There’s a new portal.” Dick turned knob and clicked the dial from the yellow quarter (which had to represent their current location) to the new purple quarter and opened the door. Tim was surprised to see that instead of another town or city, they appeared to be in the countryside. A wide, weedy drive wound away from the door and a line of trees that were picturesquely lit by the afternoon sun. In the distance there was a grand stone gateway with intricate iron latticework along the top. Big bushes loaded with flowers lined the drive and in several meandering lanes that hadn’t been kept in check for ages. Between the bushes were lanes of long bright green grass that led in all directions.

“Where is this?” Tim asked. 

“An empty mansion at the end of the valley outside the west limits of Gotham on the edge of the Wastes,” Dick explained. “Let’s go!”

Dick led her down the nearest lane of grass on the right, their passage brushing petals off when they had to squeeze between two rows that had grown wild and close together. The summer air was hot and steamy and filled with the scent of flowers. Then they rounded the back of the manor and stopped to view the rolling hills in the back where even more flowers grew wild and untamed, and there was a stream and a bridge in the distance that seemed to lead to a cottage on the edge of a small lake.

The place was marvelous. Between the bushes and their loads of purple, red, and white flowers, the wet grass was full of smaller flowers: pink ones with only three petals, giant pansies like the ones in the vase of roses in the shop, orange lilies, tall white lilies, irises, creepers with flowers big enough for hats, cornflowers, poppies, and so many others including several with strange shapes and stranger colors that Tim didn’t even know the names of.

“We could open a flower shop,” Tim said, staring in awe and wonder at the beauty surrounding them. “This place is gorgeous. Did you make this with your magic?”

“Only a little, to help the flowers grow,” Dick said, a sad, but fond look on his face as he looked around and led them through the last of the bushes and onto the open flowery field.

When they came to the edge of the lake Tim looked around feeling a strange touch of nostalgia. She felt as if she’d been there before, but knew that she’d never been somewhere so lovely.

“What is it? Tim?” Dick asked. Tim hadn’t realized that she’d stopped.

“It’s just… it all seems familiar somehow, yet I know I’ve never been here before,” Tim mused. “I feel so at home… and like I am dreaming.”

“Come with me,” Dick said gently, and Tim allowed him to take her hand and pull her along.

They finally came to the little cottage by the lake.

“This was my favorite hideaway,” Dick told her. “I spent a lot of time here when I was young,” Dick told her. “The manor used to be the old Wayne family home before Bruce became King Clark’s Royal Wizard. When I first became his apprentice, Bruce gave me this place as my private study. So even though Bruce and Talia began to spend less time here, it sort of became my hide away until I got my place in Coast City. I can’t tell you how many days I spent here working in secret. I know that Madam Gordon and others think I never really had to work hard on practicing my magic, but that’s because they never knew about this place and that I prefered to study in private away from prying eyes and their expectations. Now you can come here whenever you like.”

Tim stared as Dick moved towards the cottage, but she couldn’t make herself follow. Why was he telling her this? It felt like a goodbye.

“What’s the matter?” Dick asked, when he realized she wasn’t with him.

“You’re scaring me,” Tim admitted. “I… just have this weird feeling that you’re going to leave. Dick… just tell me what’s going on. I don’t care if you’re turning into a monster.” 

Dick stared at her in surprise before a soft, fond smile formed on his lips. “I just want to make sure that you’ll all be able to live comfortably.”

“So you are going away?” Tim demanded.

“I’m not saying that. I’m just making sure that if something happened to me-” Dick clamped his mouth shut, a pained look pinching his expression.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Tim scowled. “I want to help. I know I’m not good for much aside from cleaning, but…”

She sighed and looked away, hunching and gritting her teeth. She felt like she was shrinking into herself and could suddenly feel all of her aches and pains that she’d forgotten in her wonder and the awe she felt for their surroundings.

“Tim… you can do so much more than clean up after a slob like me,” Dick said gently, his arm coming around her shoulders. “You may have only been with us for a little over a week, but… you mean so much to me and Damian. You’ve made our family feel a little more whole. More than it has since Bruce disappeared.”

Tim huffed, but smiled, feeling a part inside her warm a bit. Then she frowned when she caught sight of a brown shimmering smudge on the other side of the lake.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s the Waste over there,” Dick said, looking reluctant to let her change the subject but continued to answer. “It’s very hot and barren and full of witch.”

“Who would make all of these flowers right on the edge of the Waste?” Tim asked.

“Alfred Pennyworth, and the late Martha Wayne, Bruce’s mother,” Dick replied. “I think the notion was to make the Waste flower to diminish the power demons like the Joker have over the Wastes. Mrs. Wayne brought the lake to the surface and got it growing. Things were coming along very nicely until she and her husband met an untimely death and passed away. Alfred, Bruce and I did our best to maintain the property but as Alfred got on in years, and Bruce moved to Metropolis, the field expanded more and more and it grew wild until Bruce disappeared and Alfred passed away. After that I gave up all attempts at maintenance and this place has been abandoned ever since.”

“But won’t Madam Gordon know you’re here?” Tim asked.

“I tried to do the thing she’d least expect,” Dick said, grinning again.

“And hiding in the old Wayne family home won’t be suspect?” Tim asked.

“I’ve avoided places that remind me of Bruce like the plague before now,” Dick said shrugging as he led her back towards the manor and castle. “What reason does she have to think I’ve changed my habits now? And Bruce had left this place far behind by the time we met her, so I don’t think she knows much about this property.”

Tim let the matter drop and they continued to the house in silence.


End file.
